


X-Men: Apocalypse (if it were good)

by dodger_chan



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 1980s, Minor Character Death, NaNoWriMo 2016, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 46,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodger_chan/pseuds/dodger_chan
Summary: Did anyone else notice that the movie was... less than great? This is my attempt to rewrite the film, in novel format, into something better than what we saw. Inspired by Belated Media's "What if 'Star Wars: Episode I' Was Good?"This is finished except for minor editing and will be updated daily.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Initially, I was trying to fanfic Apocalypse into a better movie with extra scenes, but soon realized it needed far too much work. After watching "What if 'Star Wars: Episode I' was good" ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgICnbC2-_Y ) I decided to make rewriting it my NaNo project this year. This is the novelization of a movie I'd have preferred and features:  
> \- a shift in focus away from Professor X and Magneto and onto the younger mutants  
> \- more 1980s  
> \- less Wolverine  
> and other things that hopefully make this work enjoyable even to those who liked the film.

     The procession began at the temple of En Sabah Nur. It wound through the city streets, past the former palace of the now long defeated kings, down to the banks of the Nile. Most of the crowd stopped there. Only an honor guard, a few priests and the four principle acolytes accompanied God himself across the river to his new temple. Metjen awaited them there with the sacrifice.  
     Officially Death, the most powerful of the four acolytes would perform the sacrifice in the presence of En Sabah Nur to purify the large pyramid in honor of their one true God. Metjen, however, had discovered the true purpose. En Sabah Nur's mortal frame was aging, as was the way of all living gods. Rather than accept this fate, and prepare to rule over his people from the afterlife, En Sabah Nur, with the aide of Death's magic, would steal the life of the sacrifice and rule on earth for another generation. The rule of En Sabah Nur was not so great that Metjen wished it to continue through the life of his son and his grandson. When Metjen revealed what he had learned to a few carefully selected priests and lower court officials, they had agreed with him. The rite at the new temple must be stopped.  
     Metjen had not been privy to much of the planning. He knew that architect had designed structural flaws into the temple, so that at the right moment the priests could seal the entrance and collapse the pyramid, crushing the god En Sabah Nur and his four acolytes. Metjen would die with them, but his death was of small importance compared to the revolution it would bring about.  
     The procession, smaller now, continued West, away from the Nile and up to the pyramid. In their elaborate headdresses, the four acolytes looked almost like they could be gods themselves. Behind them, the closed palanquin hid the form of En Sabah Nur. So close to his living god, Metjen felt doubt creeping into his mind. Surely his betrayal would have been noticed. Death approached him, her figure disguised by her robes, her eyes hidden by her jackal mask. She loomed in front of Metjen, expectantly, but did not call out his treachery. Belatedly, he realized she wished him to present the sacrifice.  
     Metjen drew his knife and cut into the sacrifice's arm. The cut bled for a few seconds before skin grew back over the wound. The quick healing seemed to satisfy Death, as she walk to the palanquin, consulting with the God shrouded within. Metjen quickly made eye contact with one of the priests who tapped two fingers against his staff, the signal of conspiracy. Consultation finished, Death resumed her place ahead of the palanquin. Metjen took one final look at the sky and led the sacrifice down the tunnel into the pyramid.

***********************************************************************************

     The tunnel led to a large chamber at the center of the pyramid, empty except for two stone platforms. Metjen lay the sacrifice on one of them, then stood out of the way. Death took her place between the platforms. The four slaves carrying the palanquin stopped and knelt down. The three other acolytes bowed in front of the palanquin door. En Sabah Nur stepped down. Metjen bit down on his lip to muffle a gasp. The living god looked old and worn. War, the largest of acolytes lifted his god onto the second platform. The three acolytes ringed the room, while Death standing between the platforms began to chant.  
     As the chant continued, a golden glow lit the top of the chamber's high ceiling. Rivulets of light trailed down the outside of the chamber's walls, twisting and bending in ways that reminded Metjen of irrigation canals. He had not thought light could be directed in such a manner. The streams of gold continued across the floor and up the sides of of the two platforms. Somehow, the light was lifting the platforms off of their pedestals. Metjen had never seen magic performed before, he had not known it could be so beautiful.  
     The falcon masked acolyte, Famine, turned his head towards the chamber's entrance. He removed his helmet revealing a young man's face and a frown. He cocked his head to the side, slightly, listening. War and Pestilence turn to look at him. Metjen could not hear anything but the chanting. He hoped that the priest outside had given the signal and the sound Famine was hearing was the sound of the tunnel sealing, or possibly even the temple pyramid crumbling around them. A rumbling sound began to echo down the tunnel. Dust began to rain down from the chamber walls. The slaves who had carried the palanquin ran panicked down the tunnel. Metjen remained where he stood. There was no escape in that direction. There was no escape at all. They would all die in here. En Sabah Nur and his four acolytes as well as Metjen and the slaves. To achieve great things, sacrifice was necessary. It was a lesson Metjen had learned from the teachings of En Sabah Nur himself.  
     Between the two platforms, Death's chanting did not falter. It seemed unlikely to Metjen that she would have time to complete her spell before the rocks crushed them and even if she did he did not think the life force En Sabah Nur could gain from the sacrifice could save him from the weight of the pyramid. Still, it would be best not to take chances. Metjen drove his knife towards the chanting woman only to find it stopped in the air inches from Death's shoulder by some invisible shield.  
     “Traitor!” The shout came from Pestilence, his hand upraised as if blocking Metjen's attack from across the room. Certainly a possibility. The four principle acolytes of En Sabah Nur were known to posses powers beyond that of ordinary men, though few had ever seen them used. A force flung Metjen back into the wall. His knife clattered uselessly to the chamber floor; his hand was no longer able to clasp it. Large chunks of the chamber's walls and ceiling were beginning to fall. It seemed, however, that some invisible shield was sheltering the two platforms and Death between them. Rocks crumbled and bounced a few hand-spans above and around her. Still, the rocks were piling around the platforms and Metjen knew that even if the pyramid did not crush them, they would never be able to dig their way out. He smiled slightly as he drew his last breath.

***********************************************************************************

     Death finished her chant and turned her attention to the room around her. War and Pestilence had already been crushed by the collapsing temple. Famine had killed the traitor priest who had tried to stop her spell, but he was injured, rocks crushing his lower body as he maintained the shield that had protected En Sabah Nur and her as well. The floor beneath her trembled; she did not have much time. Quickly, she crafted her own shield around the new vessel of En Sabah Nur. His old vessel, now useless, she left to the rocks. Though the transfer of consciousness and, since she had finished the spell, the transfer of all of her lord's powers was complete, it would take some time before En Sabah Nur would be able to fully use his powers and protect himself. If the information he had provided her was accurate, it would be some time before he was even conscious. Probably not before they were trapped. The ground beneath her shifted and gave way. Falling, she lost sight of Famine. He was no longer of any importance. The only thing that mattered was ensuring that En Sabah Nur could survive. She began to cast a spell of hibernation to supplement the spell of protection she had crafted. It was a risky spell, as it would need to be actively broken. There were only a few priests who had been taught the counter-spell, but they were the most loyal. Surely they would begin excavating the temple as soon as they saw it fall, but it had taken several years to build and it could very easily take several years to dig him out. The spell was not a difficult one to cast, fortunately, as she knew she could not have much time left. She finished the hibernation spell just as she struck the ground. Swiftly, she directed some of the larger rocks to fall around her lord, forming a semi-protective cocoon around him. Her last thought before she was buried was the hope that En Sabah Nur would forgive her for the inadequacy of his temporary coffin.

***********************************************************************************

       
     Across the Nile in the capital of the Empire of En Sabah Nur, the collapse of the temple was seen by all. Priests tried to calm the crowds, and most tried to stifle their own doubts. Living gods could die, but what living god allowed his own temple to crumble to dust. Some people asserted that if En Sabah Nur's temple had fallen that it was a sign that he was no true god. There was talk among the priests of putting the architect to death, though he argued that if his construction failed it was not a design flaw but the will of En Sabah Nur himself. Lacking their god to lead them, the empire soon fell, as all empires must fall. However, a few faithful priests were able to preserve the teachings of En Sabah Nur, and the worship of En Sabah Nur. The ruins of the great pyramid were eventually lost to the desert, but the cult of En Sabah Nur continued, passing the spells from generation to generation. Knowing that someday,if the faithful continued their practice, the temple would be found and if their faith was strong enough, En Sabah Nur would rise again to rule. And this time his rule would last until the end of the world.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Italics _are thoughts__

     Jubilation Lee picked at her French Fries and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She looked around the Beverly Center food court. People were eating and chatting. No one seemed to be watching her. It was probably because she was alone. Usually if she was hanging out in the mall Kim and Angie would be there, too. Sometimes Greg, if he knew that Angie was going to be there. Today, though, she had a good reason to be here alone, even if she couldn't quite remember what it was at the moment. She sipped her soda and looked around again. There were more security guards than usual, but they didn't seem to be interested in her. Unnerved none the less, Jubilation decided to toss the rest of her lunch.  
     “Miss.” A man's voice called out from behind her. She stuffed her fries and Coke in the trash and walked briskly away from the food court. It was too hot there, anyway.  
     “Miss.” The voice called again. Jubilation adjusted her jacket and quickened her pace. She hadn't done anything wrong, she reasoned, so it couldn't actually be calling to her.  
     “Miss.” A hand came down on Jubilation's shoulder. She turn quickly around, raising her hands. Bright sparks flew out of her fingers. The security guard who had grabbed her stepped back and covered his face, blinded by her little fireworks. But when he pulled his hands down his face was partially melted.  
     “No way.” She stared at her hands. Her fireworks had never hurt anyone before. They just weren't that powerful. Sure, they were hot enough to burn people if they touched them, but they were too small to for the heat to carry any distance. The fireworks sparkled off her fingertips, brighter than she was used to seeing them. She felt hot, not from the plasma but from within. Individual sparkles blurred together as the size and intensity of her fireworks grew. It felt like her power was burning through her from the inside out. It was nothing like her mutation normally behaved.  
     Because this wasn't her mutation.  
     Jubilation woke to the feeling of her bed shaking. Sitting up, she could see Jean's bed and the nightstand between them were shaking as well. Swiftly, she got out of her bed and sat on Jean's.  
     “Time to wake up, Jeannie.” She shook her friend's shoulder. Jean twitched but didn't wake up. If she didn't wake up soon half the student body would be stuck with Jean's nightmare and the professor would invade their room. Again. _Desperate times _, Jubilation thought, and pinched Jean's nose shut. Her friend gasped and opened her eyes. “You awake now, Jeannie?”__  
     “Yes,” Jean's voice sounded much more nasal than usual. “Are you going to let go of my nose, Jubes?”  
     “I don't know. I like the way your voice sounds this way.” Jubilation grinned at her best friend, but released her nose. Jean stuck out her tongue and both girls laughed. A knock sounded at the door.  
     “Jean, are you alright?” The professor's voice called through the door. Clearly Jubilation had woken Jean just in time.

__***********************************************************************************_ _

___“I'm fine, Professor. It was just a bad dream.” Jean said out loud for Jubes' benefit, probably not loud enough to carry through the heavy door. _Everything is okay _, she directed her telepathic message to the professor. _I had another nightmare, but I woke up _._____  
      _Was it the same dream as before? _Professor Xavier's mental voice sounded so much like his speaking voice that sometimes Jean wasn't sure if he had spoken aloud or in her head.__  
      _Fire, fire and more fire. _She confirmed. _But I'm okay now. _____  
_I'll let you go back to sleep, then. We can discuss it tomorrow. _“Sleep well, Jean.” Jean felt his presence leave her mind and she relaxed momentarily.__  
      The room she shared with Jubes was a bit of a mess. Two of the dresser drawers were open. One of their desk chairs had been relocated to the window, the other had been up-ended. Their books were mostly still on the shelf, but Jean suspected that a closer inspection would show that they were no longer in quite the right order. Telekinesis was almost always more trouble than it was worth. Carefully, she returned the upside-down chair to it's proper position. Tidying the room without getting out of bed would be a lot nicer if her telekinetic powers didn't create messes in the first place.  
     “I'm sorry I woke you.” Jean apologized.  
     “No big deal,” Jubes shrugged. “You only interrupted a nightmare. When you interrupt a dream where I'm on a date with David Bowie, then we'll be having words, Jeannie-baby.”  
     Jean appreciated Jubes' chatter. It might have made her think that Jubilation was totally cool with being woken up by someone else's dreams on a semi-regular basis, if Jean weren't a telepath. She didn't get complete sentences from a casual scan of Jubes' mind, just a general impression of concern. Jean tried to look deeper.  
      _Are you trying to read my mind, Jeannie? _The thought came at Jean hard.__  
     “I'm sorry, Jubes,” Jean started to apologize, but Jubes just waved her off.  
     “It's cool, Jeannie. You're my best friend. I don't mind you in my head. I do object to the implication that you don't think I'm telling the truth about it not being a big deal when you wake me up.”  
     “How can it not be a big deal?” Jean haphazardly picked their books up off the floor and put them back on the shelf. She could reorganize them in the morning. Well, later in the morning. A glance at the alarm clock informed her it was just before two. “My freakish powers make a mess of our room and interrupt your sleep!”  
     “It's not like you broke anything.” Jubes shrugged. “And we're all freaks here, Jean. At least when you make a mess, you clean it up.”  
     It still didn't feel good to Jean. 

________________***********************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________________Scott had a headache. Not a typical mild pain around the back of your head, take an aspirin and feel better in fifteen minutes headache, but a feeling of intense pressure behind his eyes. A pounding pain that felt like it might tear through his skull at any moment. He'd been getting those too often lately. To make matters worse he wasn't at home where he could lie down in his room and pray for death until the headache eased. He was in class where he had to at least fake some level of attention or get stuck in detention. He tried to focus._  
     Miss Kirchner, his civics teacher was teaching a lesson on recent history, the attempted assassination of President Nixon by a mutant terrorist, thwarted primarily by another mutant. It seemed like a pretty dumb lesson. Sure, most people didn't know mutants existed before the dramatic reveal of Magneto on live television but all that meant from Scott's perspective is that most people were idiots. Half the country had seen a mutant try to kill the president and decided mutants were evil and dangerous. The other half had seen a mutant stop the assassination and decided that mutants were heroes. A lot of time was spent debating which of the two sides were correct. There wasn't a lot of in-between in Scott's experience which seemed like pretty limited thinking.  
      Granted, Scott had an advantage over most people in that he actually knew a mutant, his older brother Alex. He didn't know Alex all that well, as Alex had been serving in Vietnam for Scott's early childhood. But Alex was a reasonably cool, if much older brother and war record aside much more regular guy than either hero or villain.  
     “Mr. Summers.” Miss Kirchner's voice was too loud for Scott's headache, and sharp enough the he knew it wasn't the first time she'd said his name.  
     “I'm sorry, Miss Kirchner,” Scott sounded a little weak to his own ears. “I'm not feeling very well. May I use the restroom?”  
     Miss Kirchner gave him a pass. He must have sounded pathetic. The bathroom was only slightly better than the classroom for his headache, though. It was quieter, but sound wasn't really effecting this particular headache. Scott sat on top of the toilet and closed his eyes as tightly as possible, trying to keep the light out of his eyes. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyeballs and watched red streaks flash across the inside of his eyelids. He would have to talk to his parents about seeing a doctor. Headaches this bad probably required some kind of medical treatment. A ringing sounded in Scott's ears, either the end of the class period or his headache was causing auditory hallucinations. Both seemed equally likely.  
     Scott wasn't sure how long he sat in the bathroom before someone knocked on the stall door. He wasn't even sure at first if that was the sound he heard.  
     “Hey, what are you doing in there? C'mon.” Scott didn't recognize the voice. “I don't care if you're smoking in there. I need to use the toilet.”  
     Scott lifted his head and opened his eyes. His headache vanished in an instant.  
     The door to the bathroom stall ripped off its hinges and slammed into the sink, breaking the door. Also, somehow, the sink broke off the wall as well, releasing a spray of water from the pipes. Surprised, Scott looked around for whatever was causing the damage. A red line zigzagged across the wall and up to the ceiling before Scott realized that the reason he was able to track the destruction perfectly was that he was causing it, somehow, with his eyes. He closed them quickly.  
     “Fuck,” the voice who'd wanted into the bathroom earlier perfectly voiced Scott's thoughts.  
     “You might want to try another bathroom.” Scott laughed, shakily. He guessed a doctor's appointment would be unnecessary. There wasn't a cure or even a medical treatment for being a mutant. 

________________***********************************************************************************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________________Magda hummed to herself as she chopped the vegetables for that night's dinner. From the kitchen window she could see her daughter, Nina, playing in the yard. Three birds had flown down to their well, perhaps telling Nina the news from town. At first Magda had not wanted to live so far from town, but as Nina grew up what had to seemed to be Eric's paranoia had turned out to be wisdom. Living in town with close neighbors they would have had no way to hide Nina's ability to talk with animals. When she was very young it could have been passed off as childish fantasy but now that she was seven and her animal friends responded to her requests, her abilities would be obvious. Still, though, she wondered if, perhaps, Nina's mutation might have manifested itself differently if she had other children around for friendships. Magda was not a scientist, but from some of the stories Eric had told her she wondered if the specific manifestations of mutations were effected by the needs of the mutant. She had mentioned her idea to Eric once. He hadn't agreed, but he hadn't dismissed her idea either. Nina's laughter brought Magda's attention back to the well. A deer had joined her. That could lead to problems._  
     Magda went outside and joined her daughter by the well. The deer did not run away as she approached. Definitely problems.  
     “I hope, Nina, that you've told your new friend not to eat the food in my garden?” Magda kept her voice light. Nina was too young to really understand that deer, as lovely as they were out in the woods, were the sworn enemy of rural gardeners.  
     “I'll tell him, Mama.” Nina nodded seriously. “He promises he won't eat your potatoes.”  
     “Thank you,” Magda addressed Nina, rather than the deer. It was probably rude, but potatoes weren't the only things she grew. In fact, “I don't suppose he said anything about my peas, did he?”  
     “Um,” Nina giggled, guiltily.  
     “Sweetheart, just because you don't like peas doesn't mean you can get your friends to eat them for you. Peas are good for growing girls.” Nina made a face. “Besides, your father and I both like peas. It's not fair have your friends steal them from us.”  
     “Yes, Mama.” Nina sighed. Magda made a note to check the fencing she and Eric had put up around her vegetable garden as she returned to the kitchen. Nina said her friends never lied to her, and maybe animals couldn't really lie, but they could forget. And where the was one deer, there was likely to be several.  
     When Magda was a child, her father had a simple way of dealing with animals in the garden. They became dinner, replacing whatever food they had eaten with their meat. If necessary, they did own a shotgun. Eric could kill any deer that went after their food. But Nina would be deeply upset, and they certainly wouldn't be able to have venison. When Nina was asleep Eric would sometimes complain to her about their vegetarian diet, but Magda hadn't seen what else they could do. She wasn't going to try to explain to Nina why some of her friends had to be killed and eaten. 


	3. Chapter 2

     The club was a foul place situated in what had once been a warehouse in East Berlin. It reeked of stale alcohol and sweat. The metallic scent of blood Mystique dismissed as just her imagination. Fitting for a fight club, but there likely wasn't enough spilled to leave a permanent scent this far away from the central cage. With her cold war education, it was tempting to blame the place on the depravities of communism, but Mystique had seen things just as bad in the so-called free world. The west was somewhat less dusty in its vices; that was the main difference as far as she was concerned. Carefully, she scanned the club. The crowd surrounding the cage kept her from seeing its occupants clearly. Above the cage she had already spotted the snipers, towards the back of the club she saw a guard standing in front of a curtain who was most likely keeping watch over the generator that electrified the cage. The only thing she needed now was confirmation that the mutant she was looking for was here.  
     A cheer went up from the crowd. Blood must have been spilled. Mystique's German was rusty, but she could understand most of what the emcee was saying. Sieger - victory or maybe victor, zehnte - the number ten or tenth, Engel – Angel, the name of the winner. He paused to let the crowd cheer. Mystique could see the winged mutant on the second level of the cage accepting the blood thirsty praise with a smile for the crowd, his teeth bared at the snipers. If he didn't get out soon, there might not be much of him left to save. But Mystique couldn't risk getting him out if the mutant she'd come for wasn't here tonight. Caught up in her thoughts, she almost missed it when the emcee started speaking again. Teufel – devil. He gestured down at a box being carried towards the cage. München – Munich. Almost certainly who she was waiting for. Trying not to draw attention to herself, Mystique began to work her way around the room towards the guard by the generator.

***********************************************************************************

     Angel was not entirely happy with his last victory. It had been sloppy and too quick. Quick fights were less entertaining for the club goers. And he wasn't sure if he'd left his opponent alive or not. It was better if they lived; then he could beat them again. More experienced opponents were more difficult to fight, but they also understood the situation. Fight, and feed the blood-lust of the crowd, or die.  
     Once the body of his last opponent had been carried out of the cage, Angel swooped down and scratched a notch in the cage's floor. Ten. His current victory streak. After a tenth straight win would be a good time for a break. He looked over to the emcee. The emcee was frowning at him. His first instinct had been right. The last fight had been too quick. They would match him against something else.  
     Angel drank some water and ignored the introduction of his next opponent. The emcee wouldn't provide any useful information. Surprise would make the fight more difficult. And a more difficult fight was longer. It kept people in the club longer. It got people to buy more drinks. It also wasn't his choice. He would keep fighting because otherwise he wouldn't be worth keeping alive.  
     His next opponent was brought in in a black box that didn't open until the cage was sealed. It was a kid. Blue and monstrous, sure, but clearly a kid. Angel watched as the kid frantically tried to escape the cage. The kid seemed to flit from place to place in the cage instantaneously. A teleporter. Well, shit, that would be hard to fight.  
     Angel dove down to grab the kid, and the kid teleported away. Angel launched himself upwards, and the kid teleported away. The crowd was starting to make noises of displeasure. Angel didn't have much patience to spare for the kid, either. He glanced warily at the snipers above the cage.  
     “Fight me!” He snapped at the kid in German. “Or they'll kill us both.”  
     They might not kill Angel, but given how quickly the kid could move he'd almost certainly get shot. And if it didn't kill him outright, he'd be at a real disadvantage in his next fight. Depending on his opponent, death was not an unlikely outcome. He dove at the kid again. The kid teleported again, but this time he only moved a meter. The kid's tail wrapped around Angel's throat and Angel felt himself slam into the side of the cage. Electricity burned Angel's skin. His wing exploded with pain as the bone snapped. The crowd gasped, then cheered. They liked Angel's pain. Nothing new there.  
     “Es tut mir leid.” The kid stammered. After that brief flash, he wasn't even thinking of fighting. Angel was going to kill him.

***********************************************************************************

     For her form in the club, Mystique had chosen a slender female body of slightly above average height and with slightly above average sized breasts. She had gone with blue eyes and blond hair, teased up in what the magazine she had stolen the form from assured her was the latest fashion. Critically for her success tonight, she had dressed the form in low cut top and a tight short skirt she had seen in a store on the other side of the wall. She was confident she would be able to distract the guard.  
     Predictably, the guard stopped her when she tried to walk past him, probably explaining to her that it was dangerous. Just as predictably, his grip on her upper arm was loose and his thumb stroked the bare skin of her shoulder. Mystique smiled. In such an attractive form, it would be a dazzling smile. She snaked one arm around the guard's neck. Behind her, the crowd cheered again. She didn't know if the devil she'd come for was any good at fighting; they were running out of time. Mystique knocked the guard out and pushed him behind the curtain. It was hiding not just a generator, but the power controls for the entire club, wired together haphazardly into a ridiculous mess. A clear fire hazard, perfect for her purposes. Unfortunately, none of the switches had labels.  
      _Trial and error it is. _Blindly, Mystique pulled a couple of levers. Sparks shot out from the equipment. The crowd gasped as the lights in the club flickered. A gunshot rang out. One of the snipers had fired. Mystique stepped out from behind the curtain to look at the club. She must have cut the power to the cage because the mutants inside it had stopped fighting. The boy with the wings was tearing at damaged bit of the cage, making a path to escape. Mystique rushed to the cage. By the time she reached it the winged mutant had gotten out of it and launched himself at the first of the snipers. His one broken wing did not keep him from his task. The other mutant still sat in the cage, looking around him, too startled to react.__  
     Devil hardly seemed the correct way to describe him. He did have a tail, and cloven hooves instead of normal feet but aside from those points, he seemed very innocent. No, the word she was looking for was young. He looked younger then his fifteen years. At the moment, he was clearly terrified. He jumped, startled as the body of one of the snipers fell onto the cage.  
     “Komm mit mir,” Mystique told him. “Come with me.” If her grammar was off, she was still understandable. She reached out a hand to him and he grabbed it. The world around Mystique seemed to disappear and remake itself as the same club, but next to the door. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, the world was gone again and again replaced with a new scene. This time it was an alley across the road from the club and the world stayed put.  
     “Thanks, uh, Danke.” Mystique corrected herself. She'd forgotten how disorienting teleportation could be. Mystique glanced behind her at the club doors. No one seemed to be after them. She relaxed slightly and shifted out of her disguise and into a less striking form; brown eyes, darker hair, shorter legs. A higher neckline completed the new form. To shift fully, however, she had to briefly display her natural body.  
     “Ihr...Die Blaue Dame.” The boy gaped at her. When Mystique had shown her true face on television she had known there would be consequences. She had not anticipated the hero worship of younger mutants. From this mutant, it was both less and more unsettling.  
     “Du bist..uh..verletzt?” She tried asking.  
     “I am not hurt.” He replied, slowly. His accent was heavy, but understandable.  
     “Good. How's your English?” It would be so much easier for her if they could use English.  
     “I am a little out of practice,” He admitted. “But it it better than my Russian. My father used to speak English and Russian with me sometimes when I was young. My mother was an American and he thought I should know her Muttersprache. My father - ”  
     “It's better than my German.” Mystique did not want to hear about his father. “Call me Mystique.”  
     “My name is Kurt. Kurt Wagner.” He held out his right hand offering to shake. He had two thick fingers and a thumb. Mystique shook his hand. “In the München Zirkus, I was called the Incredible Nightcrawler.”  
     “There's a school in America. For Mutants.” Mystique began walking down the alley towards the main street, trusting Kurt would follow her. He kept up easily. “I can get you a passport, other identity papers.”  
     “I should go back to the Zirkus -” Mystique stopped walking.  
     “They _sold _you!” She snapped at him. “How did you think you ended up in that cage? The humans at the circus sold you to a man who fights mutants for money.”__  
     “No, they would not do this.” The boy shook his head. “I have been with the zirkus since I was very young. The owner took me in when my father died. He was, with my father, very close. I cannot believe-”  
     “Whether you believe it or not, it's true.” Mystique was done with hearing him defend those humans. When she had gone to Munich to look for Kurt the circus owner had voiced the appropriate concerns, but there had been no real feeling behind them. He had seen the young mutant as nothing more than a money-maker. “You can't go back there. The school will be safe.”  
     “Can I not go with you?” He asked. This question Mystique was more prepared to deal with. Many of the young mutants she helped out wanted to tag along with her afterwards.  
     “I work alone.” Any further explanation would only invite argument.  
     “But, do you not get lonely?” A question she had heard before.  
     “No.” She did, sometimes. But it was worth it. She couldn't do what she did with a traveling companion. Her biggest advantage was her mutation; she was never the same person twice when she could avoid it. Any regular companion would make her identifiable. Especially one as distinct as Kurt.  
     Especially one she'd want to protect as much as Kurt.  
     “Could I not help you?” He offered. She'd heard that before, too.  
     “You're what, fifteen-” It was his turn to interrupt.  
     “I am sixteen.” He was lying. She'd been there when he was born. It was not a day she'd forget.  
     “No you're not.” She resumed walking down the road. “You're still fifteen.”  
     “I am almost sixteen.” Kurt's voice was sulky. If the light were better, she would probably see him pouting. It was good that the light was bad, though. It kept the few people around from noticing Kurt's dark blue skin and tail. “How did you know I was lying?”  
     “It was a good guess.” Mystique was a very good liar, and there were some things Kurt didn't need to know. That knowing would make convincing him to go to Charles' school more difficult. “The school is a good place. You'll be safe there.”  
     Safety was paramount. She had thought Kurt was dead, believed it for years. Now that she knew he was alive she had to see him protected. And the best place for that was Charles' school. Charles was naïve about humans, and their relationship with mutants, but he was very protective of his students. He'd keep her son safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German that is not translated in the text:  
> Es tut mir leid - I'm sorry  
> Die Blaue Dame - The blue lady  
> Muttersprache - native language (mother tongue)  
> Zirkus - circus
> 
> I used google translate, so if I messed up gender agreements or other aspects of German please let me know and I'll correct it when I post the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 3

     Scott could feel the sun on his arm and the wind in his hair. It was afternoon, so they were driving East now. He couldn't see the road, or anything else, because if he opened his eyes he'd probably blow up Alex's car, or destroy the road ahead of them. Scott had kept his eyes closed since that afternoon at school, had tied a blindfold over his face to remind himself not to open them. He'd had his eyes closed for two weeks now. Being blind, he'd decided, sucked. He couldn't read, couldn't watch TV. He could listen to music, but he had no way to tell which of his records he was putting on the turntable and a very high risk he'd scratch it trying to put the needle down. He couldn't even hang out with friends. From the eavesdropping he'd done, it seemed the few he'd had were either not interested in hanging out with the freak or forbidden to see him. Even if he still had friends, they'd be at school during the day.  
     He'd been expelled from his school. Legally, they couldn't expel him for being a mutant thanks to Smith vs. Virginia, but they could for destroying the bathroom, even though it had been an accident. The county was supposed to send a tutor to his house since there wasn't a school in the district that would take him, but in the first week after “the incident” they hadn't been able to find anyone willing to tutor the kid who could kill them with his eyes. Not that he'd killed anybody. When he'd calmed down enough to talk afterwards, the principal had assured him that no one had even been injured, not even the other kids in the bathroom at the time. Still, not having school work to do all day had left him at loose ends until his brother had shown up.  
     Alex was sixteen years older than Scott, technically his half-brother from their dad's first marriage, and had been away in the army when Scott was born. They hadn't met until Scott was eight, and much of their interaction had been sharing eye-rolls at awkward family dinners – Mom may not have minded that Dad had been married previously, but the living evidence of that fact seemed to make her a little nervous. Or maybe it was the mutant thing. Something about Alex bugged her.  
     Still, Alex had shown up. Someone, probably Dad, had called him about “the incident,” either just to keep him in the loop or maybe to ask one mutant son to deal with the other so that the normal people in the Summers family could go back to their normal lives. And Alex had taken some time off from whatever job he was doing these days and came to see Scott. Not just to see Scott, but to take him away.  
     “It's sort of a private school,” Alex had explained, sitting in Scott's room. Or standing, Scott hadn't even been tempted to check. There was one chair in his bedroom and either his father or Alex might have been sitting on it. Scott had sat on his bed, next to his mother, her arm around his shoulder.  
     “We can't exactly afford a private school. Tuition, maybe but not room and board.” His mother had objected. Half-heartedly, in Scott's unvoiced opinion.  
      “It's not actually very expensive. Charles, uh, the professor who runs the place wants it to be available to all mutants not just rich ones. It's a really good education, too.” Alex continued to sell the place. “I studied there for a few years after-” Scott's father coughed loudly “-before I was drafted. The school did as much to make me the man I am today as the army did. More, actually, since that's where I learned to control my mutation.”  
     With Alex's persistent pitching, it hadn't taken long to sell Scott's parents on Xaiver's School for Gifted Youngsters. Honestly, Scott wasn't even entirely dreading it. A new school, with other kids who were just as freakish as he was. It just nagged at him, how easily his parents had let him go. It made sense, of course. Mom couldn't stay home with him every day. He couldn't stay home every day without something to do. A boarding school for inconvenient mutants would solve everybody's problems. At least this place actually provided an education, or so Alex claimed. The rock song faded into a commercial and Alex flicked off the radio.  
     “Ready for lunch, kiddo? There's a McDonalds at the next exit.”  
     “Sure.” At home, McDonalds was a rare treat. “This school you're taking me to, it is accredited, isn't it?”  
     “No, it's actually just a warehouse for kids who get kicked out of their homes for being mutants.” Fortunately, Scott's understanding of sarcasm did not require visual cues. “Of course it's accredited. Professor Xaiver's even got a few dual enrollment courses for nerds like you. So you can start college early.”  
     “If I can even go to college.” Scott grumbled. “What if I can't be fixed? What if the only way to keep this mutation in check is to never open my eyes again?”  
     “Then you'll learn to read braille. Blind people do go to college, Scottie.”  
     “Don't call me Scottie.” Scott hated that nickname.  
     “Sorry.” Alex didn't sound very sorry, but he did sound thoughtful. “Look, this school really did help me a lot with controlling my powers. And I was in a worse place than you when I was there. I really think Charles can help you, too.”  
     “You're powers were completely out of your control, too?” Scott heard Alex sigh.  
     “Look, let's get some food first and I'll tell you about it over lunch.”  
      Alex took them through the drive-thru and patiently read off most of the menu to Scott. After they got their food, rather than getting right back on the road, Alex drove them a few winding block before parking the car.  
     “I'm pretty sure Dad doesn't want me telling you this, or maybe he just didn't want me to say anything in front of your mother. So, uh, when I was your age I wasn't exactly a good kid. Much more a trouble maker. I got into trouble a lot, got into more than a few fights. And when my mutation came out, well, it wasn't a constant blast, but I didn't have any real control over when it went off, or any way to aim it. So in that respect, at least, you're ahead of me.”  
     Alex paused long enough that Scott thought he was done talking.  
     “Well, to condense a very long story I was in a fight and basically threw an energy blast at the guy I was fighting. He died. I went to prison for manslaughter. At the time, I was actually okay with being in jail, because I figured there I wouldn't be able to hurt anybody. That's where I was when I met Charles. He was just starting his school then and he got me out of prison to join him. With his help I learned how to control mutation. He'll find a way to help you, too.”  
     That was probably the most serious thing Alex had ever told him. Scott finished his lunch deep in thought. It was weird to think of his brother as someone who had ever been unsure of himself. As long as Scott had known him, Alex had been a perfect example of self-possession. Far easier to picture him as having killed someone; Scott had already assumed that was the case after Vietnam. Still, it didn't surprise Scott that Alex had turned out alright.. Scott didn't think he had his brother's strength.  
     Scott was still very much in is own head when they arrived at the school, ignoring his brother's descriptions of the campus. Either he'd see it later or the elegant landscaping wouldn't matter much to him. Although, even if he had been paying attention, he wouldn't have been able to avoid the collision.  
      _I hope that was a person and not a wall. I will never live down walking into a wall on my first day._  
      _Watch where you're going._  
     “Um, literally can't right now.” Scott answered the girl he'd apparently knocked into. _Crap. Knowing my luck, I probably just ruined my chances with the cutest girl here. She sounded cute, at least. Wait,_ “You didn't say that out loud. That was in my head. Are you some kind of psychic?” _That's pretty cool. Oh crap she can hear what I'm thinking? Did she hear me wonder if she was cute?_ “Stay out of my head.”  
     “Not a problem, Scott,” This time she definitely spoke aloud. “It's not that interesting a place.”

*********************************************************************************** 

     Jean Grey scowled. The collision had been entirely her fault. She'd been rushing to meet Jubes and run right into the cute boy Mr. Summers was bringing to the school. Probably a new student. She'd managed to catch all of her books before they'd hit the ground, which Jubes would point out as a serious perk to telekinesis. In the moment, though, she'd been too annoyed to make sure to use words rather than talking into a stranger's head. She hadn't read his mind very much, just a few surface thoughts, enough to know he was nervous about being here. She hadn't even gotten his name from his head; Mr. Summers had used it. Still, it had been enough to make him uncomfortable with her. Another potential friendship down the drain before she'd even had a chance to find out if he was nice.  
     “What's wrong, Jeannie baby?” Jubes asked. She was sweaty from her work out.  
     “I am the biggest freak in the school and nobody likes me.” That summed up her life pretty thoroughly.  
     “First off, I'm pretty sure Dr. McCoy is the biggest freak in the school.”  
     “He's a teacher. He doesn't count.”  
     “He lives on campus, he totally counts. Also, have you been in his lab? Pure mad scientist. I think he even experiments on himself. If I didn't trust the Professor, I'd be worried about a Jekyl/Hyde type situation.” Jubes nodded, gravely, but her eyes sparkled with humor.  
     “What were you doing in his lab?”  
     “I took his biochem seminar last semester. He's not that great at lecturing, but he's pretty good with a small group if you all actually like science.”  
     “Maybe I'll skip that one.” Jean didn't dislike science per se, but she was a bigger fan of psychology and sociology than chemistry. Her abilities in the hard sciences were heavily dependent on having good teachers. “How was your practice?”  
     “Coach still thinks fireworks are not a fitting end to a floor routine.” Jubes rolled her eyes. As long as Jean had known her, she'd been trying to find practical uses for her mutation. So far, she had found several to her liking, but none that anyone else cared for.  
     “I'm pretty sure that would disqualify you.” Jean didn't know any specific rules about mutant powers and athletic competitions, but there had to be some. Mutants would just have too much of an advantage.  
     “I don't really compete anymore, though. Not, like, at a high level.” Jubilation still participated in the local high school gymnastics competitions. Her coach in California had wanted her try for the national team.  
     “Why don't you?” Jean couldn't understand being so good at something and essentially giving up on it. Her parents had hired a private gymnastics coach for Jubes; they could have brought in a coach good enough for Olympics training.  
     “I don't want to commit that much time to it. Gymnastics is fun, but it's not what I want to do with my life.” Jubes explained. “If I wanted to stick with gymnastics I'd have gone back to Los Angeles once I had a handle on my fireworks. Speaking of Los Angeles...”  
      _You wanted to practice?_ Jean asked directly into Jubes head, changing the subject. It was just as likely Jubes wanted to invite her to visit over the next break, but Jean wasn't sure that would work out. Jubes' parents might be cool with their daughter's mutation, but telepathy was different from sparkles.  
      _Can't have my parents revoke my allowance to pay the long distance bill._ Jubes mentally grinned. Really, it was the Professor's long distance bill that concerned Jean. Her parents weren't going to cover it.  
      _Distance today? Or do you want to try contacting me?_

*********************************************************************************** 

     “What if I hurt someone?” Scott knew he sounded a little panicked. Professor Xavier's first priority on meeting him had been to have Scott demonstrate his powers. Now they were standing in what he had been told was the school's back yard and his brother was removing his blindfold. Scott kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut.  
     “If you just look straight ahead there shouldn't be anyone to hurt.” The professor assured him. Something about his voice was soothing. Maybe it was the accent. “The beams follow your line of sight, correct.”  
     “Yeah, I mean, I think so. I couldn't really look to be sure.” Scott had to be very clear. He did not want to get in trouble if there were any accidents.  
     “Is the beam continuous? Or does it stop and start?” The other new voice was not as soothing. It belonged to Dr. McCoy. His brother had introduced him as a friend, but so far Scott had found him to be kind of annoying. Mostly because Scott didn't have the answers to any of his questions.  
     “I don't know. It seemed continuous.” Scott still wasn't opening his eyes.  
     “Right now you're standing on the edge of a pond. Directly across the pond from you is a target.” Professor Xaiver explained. “I want you to try to hit the target. Can you do that Scott?”  
     “Okay.” Scott opened his eyes.  
     He had been looking a little low, into the water. Water sprayed up along his sight line. Careful not to turn to either side, Scott lifted his chin until he could see the target. The target flew backwards. Behind it a tree split in half and Scott closed his eyes.  
     “Wow.” Alex described it succinctly.  
     “You know, that tree had been there since my grandfather was a child. I used to climb it every summer.” There was something Scott couldn't identify in the Professor's voice.  
     “I...I'm so sorry-” Scott began.  
     “Scott, that was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Don't apologize for it. However,” he continued, “I think we may want to leave the blindfold on for now.”  
     “Yeah.” Scott had no problem with that.  
     “What do you think, Hank?” The professor asked Dr. McCoy.  
     “It definitely seems to be two separate beams, continuous, and they follow his line of sight. They aren't heat; the water didn't steam at all. I'll have to check the wood, but it doesn't look it's burned at all. I'd guess concussive force, though I'd want to do some more tests to be certain.”  
     “Good to know, but do you have any ideas on how to control it? Or should I buy my brother a braille typewriter?”  
     “Maybe. I've got some ruby quartz that might filter the beams if I shape them properly.” Dr. McCoy actually sounded like he was thinking. “I could probably work them into a pair of glasses. The lenses would be pretty thick, and everything would look red.”  
     “That sounds so much better than just keeping my eyes closed.” Scott sighed in relief.  
     “I'll get started on that right away. Given the strength of the beams, we should probably do all of our tests outside, rather than in my lab.”  
     “Where everyone can see?” Scott had already blown one chance to make a friend here. He didn't want all the other students to be afraid of him.  
     “You don't still have that room with the dummies do you?” Alex asked. “The one where you had me practice?”  
     “Sort of. But we have a lot of delicate equipment in our basement now, so it would be safer to work out here.” Dr. McCoy explained. “If the beams aren't simple concussive force, and something explodes, it could be devastating.”  
     “I think it will be better if your fellow students do see the tests.” The Professor suggested. “Many of them will have gone through similar processes, and others will have to in the future. Besides, plenty of students saw you destroy that tree. I've not been a student in a long time but I remember how quickly gossip spreads. They will probably be less afraid of you if they also see you learn to control your powers.” 


	5. Chapter 4

     There were pros and cons to working undercover in a predominantly Muslim country for Moira MacTaggert. A burqa could completely conceal all of her features except her brown eyes, so the presence of a white woman would not be noticed and remarked upon. And most of the places she had to go in Cairo on this mission were not places where white people were commonly found. However, many of the places she needed to go were also not places where women were especially common, particularly women who were religious enough to keep their full bodies covered.  
     In fact, on two other occasions on this mission she had used her disguise to follow certain men connected to the cult of En Sabah Nur, only to lose them when men unconnected with the cult stopped her to ask what she was doing out alone. Under her breath she cursed the budgetary restrictions that led to her being in Egypt alone. One agent as back up – a field agent, which she most certainly wasn't any longer – would have saved her endless grief. She would probably already have pictures of the inside of the mysterious cult's inner sanctum rather than still trying to gain access to it.  
     The man she was tailing ducked into a small café. Moira waited in the street for twenty seconds and then followed him in. It was obvious when she entered that she was on the right track. The café was empty of patrons. Looking around in case someone was waiting for her, Moira made her way towards the kitchen entrance. The kitchen was not empty.  
     “You cannot be back here, Miss.” The man, dressed in dusty outdoor clothes - clearly not a cook - said in Arabic. He was suspicious of her, but only because women didn't usually walk back into restaurant kitchens. He had a tattoo on his neck – an ankh inscribed in a pyramid - marking him as a member of the cult. Swiftly, Moira punched him in the neck, disabling him long enough to stick him with a sedative. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Not bad for being out of the field for the last six years. Given his height and build, Moira expected to have about three hours before he could raise an alarm. She dragged his body out of the main walkway to reduce the risk of someone seeing him before then. She removed her burqa as well. If anyone saw her from this point on there would be no disguise that would let her blend in.  
     Behind the café, Moira found an enclosed courtyard, empty of everything except a large rug she would consider too nice for the outdoors. Lifting it she found a wooden trapdoor, with out any lock or latch to keep it closed. The cult must have considered its location sufficient protection. Quietly, she opened it and proceeded down the revealed stairs dug into the ground. She closed the door behind her, leaving herself in near darkness. Too dark to explore. She pointed her flashlight at the ground before turning it on, hoping she was far enough behind her quarry that the light wouldn't give her away. Her luck held.  
     The stairs led down to a tunnel which she followed about one thousand feet into a large, roughly dug out room, light enough that she switched off her flashlight. At the side of the room away from the tunnel was what looked like a roughly cut sarcophagus under a gold pyramid about the size of a small car. In front of the sarcophagus stood four men, including the one she had followed that afternoon. All of the men, in fact, were men she had tailed at some point on this mission. Moira crept closer, careful not to make any noise. The men were chanting in a language she didn't recognize. She got out her mini tape recorder and low light camera and began recording the events around her.  
     Of the various mutant groups she had investigated, the cult of En Sabah Nur had intrigued her the most. The majority of mutant worshiping groups were vague and unfocused; they operated on the idea that mutants were the next stage of human evolution/chosen by God for greatness beyond ordinary humans. These groups were mostly harmless. Of the ones that focused on a specific mutant, the mutant was much like any other cult leader - charming, charismatic, and most importantly present. The cult of En Sabah Nur was the only confirmed mutant cult she had come across where the mutant worshiped had been dead for thousands of years.  
     There was a brief hitch in the chanting as the pyramid began to glow. Lines of gold dripped down onto the sarcophagus and snaked around and inside it. Moira took one final picture, then turned around and ran down the tunnel back to the stairs. She was almost there when the ground beneath her began to shake violently.

***********************************************************************************

     A few streets away in Cairo, Ororo felt the ground tremble. It caused a basket of fruit to topple over. In the confusion she was able to pocket a few coins.

***********************************************************************************

     On a small, privately owned island in the Mediterranean the waves struck the rocky beach with more force than usual. Climbing up onto the dock, Mystique didn't even notice the tremor. In the island's main structure, the lights flickered. Two young women employed for their precognition jumped, startled. Psylocke tensed, briefly, before it became apparent to her that there was no external threat.

***********************************************************************************

     In a small industrial town in Poland the tremor was almost unnoticed under the constant rumble of machinery. One of the ladles, however, long worn with use, snapped under the unexpected additional vibrations. The worker who had been guiding it to the furnace froze, expecting to be bathed in molten pig iron. Instead, the ladle eased down to the ground with none of the hot metal spilling. A few workers noticed when Henrik, a quiet, private man who had only moved to the town a few years ago left the factory early.

***********************************************************************************

     In an abandoned club in Berlin the tremor caused an empty bottle to dance to the edge of the rafter it had been left on, eventually falling to the ground. Neither the shaking nor the sound of breaking glass woke Angel.

***********************************************************************************

     A record skipped in a Virginia suburb, causing _Wish You Were Here_ to start from the beginning. Peter frowned at the record player but didn't think anything of it. Records skipped all the time.

***********************************************************************************

     Jean dreamed the end of the world.


	6. Chapter 5

     Hank was not sleeping. He had stayed up to finish up the ruby quartz glasses he had promised Alex's little brother, Scott. It had taken a few trials to work out the proper curve and thickness, now it was just a matter of making glasses that wouldn't slip off Scott's face during the course of the day. He didn't feel a physical tremor, but he did notice his modified seismograph light up. Hank checked the readout. An unusually large psychic event accompanied by what had probably been at its epicenter a significant physical earthquake. It was likely the two were related, though Hank did not want to speculate on which one caused the other, or if both were caused by some third untracked event. Charles needed to be told so Hank left his lab in the basement and headed upstairs to Charles' study.   
     Outside of the study, Hank found Jubilation Lee pacing the rug in her pajamas. That meant Jean must be having one of her nightmares; a bad one if Jubilation couldn't wake her and had to get Charles. Perhaps that was psychic event.  
     “How bad is it?” He asked. There was no point in asking if it was bad.  
     “It's the worst I've ever seen. Like, it started out with the fire stuff it always does, right? But it wasn't just her. Everything was on fire.” Jubilation shuttered, remembering. “And there was a man, too, sitting on a throne. They were both huge, though, like the size of a house.”  
     “Charles is with her?” Hank didn't really need to ask. Of course Charles would be with Jean. But Jubilation had clearly been shaken up by the contents of Jean's nightmare as well as its severity and needed a change of topic.  
     “Yeah, the Professor was already on his way when I came to get him.” Jubilation chewed on her lower lip.   
     “Let's go see how she is.” Hank guided Jubilation back up the stairs and down the hallway. A few students were peeking out of their rooms. Jubilation glared at a few of the older ones, and Hank gestured to the rest to get back to bed. At the door to Jubilation and Jean's room, Hank stopped and looked inside.  
     Charles' chair was parked to the left of Jean's bed. She was sitting up, knees curled up to her chest. The two of them might have been sitting quietly or they might have been communication psychically, Hank couldn't tell. He coughed. Charles wheeled his chair back slightly and turned towards the door.  
     “Ah, Miss Lee. I'm sorry to have kept you out of your room so late.” Charles apologized. He shifted his gaze to Hank. “Is the rest of the house alright?”  
     “Everyone else is back in bed.” Hank confirmed.   
     “Good.” Charles wheeled his way out of the room and turned around in the hallway until he faced the door. “I believe that I am not needed here any longer. Good night Miss Lee, Miss Grey. I hope the rest of your night is peaceful.”   
     Hank closed the door and followed Charles down the hall. “My equipment picked up evidence of a strong psychic event tonight.”  
     “I noticed it, too. It woke me before Jean could.”  
     “I thought it might have been her.” Charles stopped abruptly. “You didn't even consider it?”  
     “No. I assumed she'd been reacting to it.” It sounded like Charles was considering it now. “It didn't feel like Jean's mind, but I could be mistaken. I'll need to look into it further.”  
     “I'll warm up Cerebro.”  
     Cerebro didn't really need to be warmed up; it had a continuous power source. The only part of Cerebro that needed warming up was Charles' brain. He had to get into the correct state of mind to operate the device, or the sheer amount of information Cerebro could offer would overwhelm him.   
     Hank followed Charles into the hollow sphere but stopped several feet back of Cerebro's controls. Hank may have been instrumental in designing Cerebro, but Charles was the only one who could use it, and so had become the only one who really understood the proper settings for each situation. Satisfied with his adjustments, Charles put on the helmet and the room went dark.  
     Whenever he joined Charles in these sessions, Hank wondered how exactly Charles visualized the experience. Hank himself could only see the parts Charles directed Cerebro to create images for.   
     “So was it Jean?” Hank asked, after Charles had been quiet for a minute.  
     “No, this psychic event wasn't local.” Charles's voice was distant; he was concentrating on something. “Ah...”  
     “What is it?”   
     “Not it, her.” Cerebro's projectors generated the image of a woman with straight hair, dressed for outdoor work and covered in dirt or maybe dust. The projectors tinted all people slightly blue, so it was hard to see more details, but the woman did look familiar to Hank. “Moira.”  
     “Moira MacTaggert?” Hank hadn't seen her in close to twenty years. “She's the source?”  
     “She hasn't aged a day.” He couldn't see it from behind, but Hank could hear a smile in Charles' voice. “She isn't the source of the psychic event, but she is there. She's on her way back to Langley now. She should be back tomorrow.”  
     “Are we going to Virginia, then?” Cerebro allowed Charles to do some limited reads on people however distant they were, but to get all of the information they needed Charles would probably need to talk to Moira in person. Also, even years after deciding to erase her memory, Charles had never seemed to get over her.   
     “Yes. Well, I might have Alex drive me. Leave you in charge of the school.” It made sense. Charles could hardly leave Alex in charge of the school. Something would explode.

***********************************************************************************

     “Ah, Mystique. Always a pleasure to see you.” Caliban smiled broadly at her. Mystique scowled back. Her form at the moment was a white man of taller than average height with brown eyes and hair that she had seen once in Heathrow airport.  
     “How did you recognize me?” It was possible this disguise was better known than she thought. She dropped it in favor of her natural blue, wearing a high-necked white dress to keep Caliban from getting the view she was pretty sure he wanted.  
     “There's just a certain something about you.” Caliban shrugged. “What can I do for you today?”  
     “Passport, visa, standard package.” Mystique placed a roll of cash on Caliban's desk. American dollars, the only currency he accepted.   
     “Not for you.”  
     “For him.” Mystique gestured behind her to Kurt who was standing shyly in the entrance.   
     “Of course. Psylocke, take care of Mystique's friend.” Psylocke guided Kurt away from Caliban's desk to the corner of the room where there was a screen set up in front of a camera.

***********************************************************************************

     “Is he a psychic?” The blue boy's question pulled Psylocke's attention back to him.   
     “He is not.” Technically, she was one of Caliban's bodyguards and leaving him even sort of alone with Mystique was a poor decision. However, it was on his order and she couldn't afford to lose this job. Mystique was also an unlikely attacker. She understood the value of a good information broker. “He has psychics who work for him, though. They told him she'd be coming today.”  
     “Did they tell him what she would look like?” The boy grinned cheerfully for his I.D. photograph.   
     “No, but she generally comes in with young mutants who need identification paperwork. It wasn't a hard guess.” She smiled at the boy. “What name do you want for your passport?”  
     “Kurt Wagner. Like the composer. He was my father's favorite.” Psylocke nodded to him absently and stepped closer to where Mystique and Caliban were talking quietly.  
     “You know, Mystique, I really am quite fond of you.” Shit. Caliban was flirting with Mystique.  
     “You're fond of money. Which I pay you.” Mystique was probably going to try to punch him. Psylocke wouldn't blame her, but she would have to stop her.   
     “I like to think there is more to our relationship than that.” Caliban reached across his desk to touch Mystique. Mystique grabbed his wrist. Psylocke extended her energy from her left hand, shaped to appear sword-like, to just under Mystique's chin. If she was going to move against Mystique, she'd have to kill her quickly. Mystique was just too good. “Stand down, Psylocke.”  
     “Your call.” Psylocke reigned in her energy, shrinking her personal light saber. She did not, however, take her eyes off Mystique.  
     “I apologize for overstepping.” Caliban moved his hand back to his side of the desk. “Perhaps I could make it up to you. With some information?”  
     “You can try.” Mystique took a step back making more space between her and Caliban, but also between her and Psylocke. She was going to accept his apology; they all knew that. There was too much Mystique couldn't do without Caliban.  
     “You are friends with Magneto, yes? My psychics tell me he is in trouble.” That wasn't the entire truth, but it was true. Magneto was involved whatever it was the girls had seen.  
     “How?” Mystique asked. Caliban shrugged.  
     “That, I am afraid, they could not tell me.” Also true. The sisters had barely spoken since their strange vision and only when strongly pressed did the eldest whisper 'Apocalypse.' Psylocke risked a glance at her boss. He had to have wanted Mystique to have this information. Had he staged the confrontation to have an excuse to tell her without making her suspicious?  
     “Kurt,” Mystique addressed the kid, “just how far can you teleport?”  
     “As far as I can see.”  
     “We need to get to America as fast as possible.”


	7. Chapter 6

     The world had changed greatly in the time since En Sabah Nur had been betrayed. The buildings were taller, closer together. The river divided the city, rather than marked its border. Most ingeniously, someone had developed a means of transporting heavy objects, and presumably people as well, with rollers that somehow stayed in place while still rolling. These he would need to study further, but these objects were usually in motion and forcing one to stop would draw attention to him. He wished to study this new world unobserved for a little while longer.  
     The people of this world did not seem obviously different from those of his empire. They crowded the streets, bartered and traded. He suspected much of the conversation he was observing consisted of haggling. The language was unfamiliar to him, though. At one point he heard music, or something rather like music, but he could not find the musicians. He did, however find a girl.  
     She did not look any different from the mere humans around her, but he could feel the power within her. He watched as she gathered the wind and directed it, creating a distraction that allowed two other children, unpowered and worthless both of them, to grab something – currency? Some small good? - from the shopkeeper. The distraction proved insufficient and the girl had to flee. Surprisingly, she opted to run towards the shopkeeper and past him, causing him to chase after her instead of the other two.  
     En Sabah Nur followed the girl, a little bit behind her pursuer. She had been cornered by the shopkeeper and two others. She had not chosen to kill them. Perhaps her power was not strong enough to take them all out, or perhaps she was limited to wind power which would have difficulty building up strength in the narrow alleyway. She seemed frightened, as though these men would be allowed to do anything to her. He stepped between them and her. One of them touched him. En Sabah Nur had the earth swallow him for his brazenness. He raised a few grains of sand and slit the throats of the others. The girl watched him warily.  
     She did not bow before his greatness, a privilege he was willing to grant to those who were both powerful and ignorant. She spoke to him, but she did not try any language he was familiar with. He would have to find some method of learning these new languages before he could assume leadership of this world. Giving up on words, the girl gestured. She reached out to touch him but hesitated, perhaps considering what he had done to her pursuers.  
     “You have nothing to fear from me, my child.” She could not understand him, so he placed her hand on his arm. Her widened in alarm, but she did not pull away. Rather, she did pull, but to guide him not to run from him. She had courage, this minor godling. She also had potential.  
     He went with her to what was most likely her home. There were several children there, all younger than her, none with any power to speak of. She chased them out. Her home was not well furnished. It was possible that this was standard in this world, but given that he had seen her stealing, it was more likely that proper deference was not given to those who deserved it here. A picture of a blue woman, another like himself and this girl, hung on the wall. The young godling pointed to it and smiled with naked admiration. An idol, perhaps. A box that contained an image that moved sat on a chair in the corner. He touched it. Oh. It was receiving some kind of signal. This he could work with.  
     “What are you doing?” The girl asked him. Now he understood her words. Now he could answer her question.  
     “Learning.” She did not interrupt him again while he absorbed the knowledge he needed in this new world.  
     This world, he discovered was more fractious than he'd considered. Modern technology made the globe linked by communication – radio, television, telephone, telegram – and travel – train, aeroplane, ships that did not require oarsmen – but did nothing to unite the world under one ruler. The numerous fractured countries seemed loosely allied into two groups backing either the United States – somehow ruled by the mob – or the Soviet Union – ruled by committee. Or possibly it was the other way around. These so-called 'super powers' did not even fight each other. They staged proxy wars to avoid making a final determination of who had the right to rule. If these really were the facts of this era it was truly horrifying how much things had decayed in his absence. Except for the wheel. Once he had seen how they worked En Sabah Nur was astounded he had not thought of them himself.  
     “Are you done learning?” The godling asked him when he took his hand off the television. He nodded. There was so much new, so much to still be processed. Mutants, that was what this world now called the powerful, like this girl. And it did not properly respect that power, or sufficiently fear it.  
     “This world must be,” En Sabah Nur paused. The Arabic word most appropriate his meaning was 'cleansed,' but the young mutant in front of him would not appreciate it. She wasted her powers caring for those better left to fail to fend for themselves. She would learn, but for now, “saved. This world must be saved.”  
     “Well, good luck to anyone trying to do that.” She had much cynicism to go with her strength. Still, she would make an excellent servant. He took her by the shoulder, reaching within to feel the full extent of her power. There was room for improvement. “What are you doing?”  
     “Making you stronger.” She would be able to draw lightning from the sky, flood cities with rain and topple countries with the wind. The shock from the surge of raw power turned her hair white. 

***********************************************************************************

     Scott was thrilled with his new glasses. The world around him did look a little more red than he'd been used to, but it looked far less blown up than in his recent experience and that was fantastic. He'd done one final round of tests with Dr. McCoy that morning; he could see in both indoor and outdoor lighting and the glasses didn't slip off with vigorous movement. Scott could scrap the blindfold and braille lessons and actually look around him.  
     His first thought was to take his new glasses and go see Alex, but his brother wasn't around. He'd had to drive Professor Xavier on some errand that required them to leave way too early in the morning and wouldn't be back for hours yet. Instead of sharing the joy of his reclaimed sight with Alex, Scott opted to explore the school grounds. Probably his best chance to do so, since as soon as the Professor came back Scott was likely to find himself with an actual class schedule.  
     He'd been walking a surprisingly wooded path for about fifteen minutes when he caught sight of the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in real life. The girl had long red hair and creamy peach skin spotted with occasional freckles. Her large (brown? ugh, stupid red tint) eyes were narrowed in concentration, shifting focus between the notebook on her lap and the text book that was open next to her, hovering at about her shoulder height. That was pretty cool.  
     “That's pretty cool.” _And there goes my day. Typical idiot Summers. See a pretty girl, say something stupid._ “The book floating thing. Must be pretty useful.” _Idiot._ “Sorry, I'm babbling. I'm just really excited about being able to see again. And holding the book like that is really cool.” _Because that's not babbling._ “I'm Scott, by the way.”  
     “I'm Jean.” She smiled at him. He was amusing her at least. A couple of other kids were walking along the path. They turned around and walked away as soon as they saw Scott.  
     “It's okay, I'm safe now. Dr. McCoy gave me these glasses.” He called after them.  
      _You're not the one who scares them._ The voice spoke directly into his head.  
     “Wait, you're the girl I ran into.” _Has she been reading my mind this whole time? Not good, Scott._ Jean looked down at her notebook, hunching her shoulders.  
     “Yeah. I'm sorry about that. I was rude to you.”  
     “Hey, I'm the one who ran into you.” Scott sat down on the ground next to her. He didn't want her to be upset.  
     “You couldn't see to avoid me.” Jean chewed her lip. “And I shouldn't have pretended I read your mind.”  
     “So you weren't reading my mind then? How'd you know my name?” He asked.  
     “Mr. Summers called you Scott.” Scott burst out laughing. Jean didn't join him. “I work really hard at not reading people's minds. People's thoughts are supposed to be private. I make a lot of the other kids nervous because I can see what they're thinking. And keep reminding them of it by talking directly into their heads.”  
     “I actually think that part is pretty of cool.” Scott did. It must be so much easier than passing notes in class.  
     “Really?” Jean smiled.  
     “Really.” Even if he hadn't, he did like making her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: at the time the pyramids were built, Ancient Egypt had not discovered the wheel. The date given at the beginning of the movie actually pre-date the real pyramids, and so also would pre-date the wheel.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the death of a child.

     Erik came home early from work with fear in his eyes. Magda was glad that Nina was outside playing with her animal friends so her father wouldn't frighten her. Erik had rushed up the stairs to their room without a word to Magda. She followed him up and saw that he was packing their clothes.  
     “Erik, what's wrong?”  
     “I fucked up.” He admitted. He explained the incident at work while he filled the suitcase with as much of their clothes and her jewelry as would fit. Then he took their second suitcase into Nina's room.  
     “You saved a man's life. That isn't fucking up.” Erik had to be overreacting. Surely revealing his mutation wouldn't be a serious problem if in doing so he saved a coworker. She knew that Erik hadn't made friends at work, but he hadn't made enemies either.  
     “Magda,” Erik stopped packing Nina's things and took her hand. “When I told you who I was, and what I had done, I trusted you. I need you to trust me now.”  
     “Erik,” She started but he interrupted her.  
     “I've been through this sort of thing before. When people know that someone is different they will talk. And even if none of the men who saw think of me as a threat, someone they tell will. They will come for me and they will come for Nina. Where is she?”  
     “Outside with her friends.” Erik was probably being paranoid, but he did have more experience in this area than she did. “You finish packing; you know what we can travel with better than I would. I'll get her.”  
     Magda could not see Nina from their kitchen door, but that was not unusual.  
     “Nina!” She wasn't in their garden.  
     “Nina!” She wasn't back by the chicken coup, asking the birds about their eggs.  
     “Nina!” She wasn't by the well, hiding from Magda, waiting to scare her mother.  
     “Nina if you don't come out right now -” Magda couldn't think of a good threat. Nina had never wandered so far from home that she couldn't hear her mother calling her. Children did grow up, though, and if Nina had gone into the woods to play with her friends she should be safe. Still, it seemed too coincidental that the first time Nina left her mother's vocal range would be the same day Erik came home telling her that they needed to run.  
     “Where is she?” Erik had their suitcases on their front porch.  
     “I can't find her. She must be in the woods.” Magda wanted to say something reassuring, that she was certain Nina had just gotten caught up with some deer and didn't hear her calling. She didn't. Looking at the panic in Erik's face, she couldn't. Erik abandoned their suitcases and ran into the woods, shouting Nina's name and she followed.  
     They found Nina in a clearing with a half dozen men in uniform. Magda only recognized one as a police officer from the town. The others must have been called in from somewhere else. The men wore no rank insignia and carried no guns, only sticks and a bow with wooden arrows. In fact, they carried nothing of metal whatsoever, at least as far Magda could tell. She had been hoping her husband had been wrong, but this would seem to confirm his worst fears. The one with the bow and arrow was already aiming at Erik.  
     “Henrik Niemczyk, we would like you to come with us.” The man who spoke had his hand on Nina's shoulder. He must be the one in charge. In front of her, Magda saw her husband relax slightly. If they were using his alias they probably had not made the connection between him and Magneto.  
     “Papa? What's going on?” Nina sounded scared. Magda heard the fluter of birds in the woods.  
     “I will come. Just let my daughter go.” Erik spoke in measured tones. He was trying to keep everyone calm. One of the men approached Erik and tied his wrists with rope. The man holding Nina let her go and shoved her towards Magda.  
     “Papa, what's going on? Why do they want you?” Nina ran towards her father, but was blocked by the man with the rope.  
     “Go with your mother, Nina.” Erik's voice was level, but Nina was not being calmed. More birds gathered in the nearby trees.  
     “Please, Nina, come to me.” Magda kept her voice calm, but she was watching the birds. She did not want these men to take Erik, but more than that she did not want them to see Nina as dangerous. Nina took a step back from Erik, and then darted directly to Magda, burying her head in her mother's skirt.  
     “Mama, where are they taking Papa?” Magda didn't have an answer for her. She eyed the birds warily.  
     “It's going to be alright, Nina. Papa's going to be fine.” Magda stroked her daughter's hair, hoping she could calm Nina down. The soldiers were starting to notice the birds.  
     “What are you doing?” The man who had held Nina, the man who must be in charge, snapped at Erik.  
     “I'm not doing anything.” Erik glanced over at Nina. He looked away quickly, but it was too late.  
     “Make her stop it! Whatever she's doing.” The man yelled.  
     “She's frightened, she can't help it.” Magda snapped at him. She continued stroking Nina's hair. A bird swooped down and clawed the hat of a soldier's head. The soldier with the bow turned to aim at Nina. Magda knelt down and held her daughter close. “Nina, Mama and Papa need you to be calm right now. Everything is going to be fine, but you need to calm your friends down.”  
     Another bird dove into the group of soldiers. This one scratched the arm of the soldier with the bow and arrow. Startled, he released the arrow. Magda could see it coming as if in slow motion. Frustratingly frozen in place, she could do nothing to protect Nina. She felt the weight of her daughter falling into her. Saw the blood on her daughter's lips. Saw the life fade from her daughter's eyes.  
     She watched, frozen in place as the necklace Nina always wore, a gift from Erik, unfastened of its own accord. Magda watched the chain float in the air, the locket fall to the ground beside … beside her daughter. The soldiers all stared at the chain in horror. Suddenly, the chain flew through the air at speed, into the ear of the soldier who held the bow. Magda looked back down at the locket. She stroked Nina's hair, held her daughter's head tight to her chest. Nina didn't need to see her father so angry.  
     Finally the chain, coated with blood and brains fell back onto the ground next to the locket. She picked them both up and tried with shaking hands to thread the chain through the locket. She needed the locket to go back on the chain. If the locket would just go on the chain, it would be alright.  
     “I can't fix Nina's necklace.” Her voice shook, a perfect match for her hands. She looked up at Erik. He was looking at her, eyes empty of everything but pain.  
     “This is all my fault.” His voice was heavy. His hands were still tied behind his back.  
     “No.” Magda dropped the necklace and stood carefully, laying Nina down on the ground. As she untied Erik's hands she continued, “You saved a man's life. They did this, the soldiers who came for you, because they were afraid. Afraid of you and afraid of our child. This is all their fault.”  
     “And the man who reported me.” Erik added. He carried the necklace and locket with his powers and carried Nina in his arms. Magda nodded. She did not like killing, but this would not be done until whoever had sent the soldiers after Erik was dead. Then she and Erik would leave this town forever.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a second chapter today since the last one seemed like a very poor Christmas present.

     Storm had never met another mutant in person so she didn't know which were the most powerful, the best suited to En Sabah Nur's plans. She had heard, however, of a man. A broker of information, a fence and a provider of false identities named Caliban who worked almost exclusively with mutants from his island lair. She had never visited, had never been able to, even if she had needed his help. En Sabah Nur had acquired the power of teleportation with his fifth body. He could get them their easily.  
     Caliban's office was empty when they entered, but not for very long. The man himself entered shortly after them, muttering to himself about 'useless telepaths.' Storm coughed, and he looked up. His eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly covered it up.  
     “I'm afraid we are closed for the evening,” he started, walking towards his desk.  
     “We are looking for fighters.” Storm said. “The best you know of.”  
     “I do know of a few fighters. But the best usually don't want to be found.” Behind Caliban, a woman entered the room, a sword in her hand. En Sabah Nur studied her. A bodyguard, he thought, a warrior. Female warriors were often unappreciated; if she turned out to be powerful enough, Caliban's information might not be necessary.  
     “You will tell us where to find them.” Storms voice was firm. Wind rippled through the room in silent threat. She had taken to intimidation naturally. En Sabah Nur had always been fond of good students.  
     “Because you are young, I will explain to you how this works.” Caliban smiled, his eyes flat. He opened a drawer in his desk. The bodyguard moved closer to En Sabah Nur. “I provide information in exchange for money.”  
     “We have no money.” Storm glanced over at En Sabah Nur, uncertainly. She was right that he had not acquired any currency. It would soon be useless, anyway.  
     “No money, no information.” Caliban pulled a gun out of his desk and pointed it at Storm. She did not flinch. En Sabah Nur reached out his hand to ensure he received the proper credit and dissolved the gun into dust.  
     “Guns provide the weak with the illusion of power.” He explained. The bodyguard raised her sword to his neck, wrapped in her energy. She extended a beam of energy towards Storm as well. En Sabah Nur placed his hand into the energy and felt her power. She would do. As he began to strengthen her, he continued, “Those of us who are strong have not need of them.”  
     “I know the kinds of mutants you need.” The bodyguard spoke. En Sabah Nur was impressed. Enhancing another mutant's strength was usually a painful process for the mutant in question. She was quite strong, and he would make her stronger.  
     “Psylocke!” Caliban sounded affronted, like he couldn't believe her betrayal.  
     “And I know where to find them.” Psylocke wanted respect as much as she wanted power and En Sabah Nur could provide her with both. He smiled. Storm and Psylocke took their proper places behind him. When he teleported away, he left Caliban alive. Such a man was not worth killing himself, and Psylocke indicated no wish to kill him.

***********************************************************************************

     Mystique stood at the front gate of her childhood home. Trying to kill time, she read the plaque again. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Really. Exactly the sort of thing she'd expect from Charles. Gifted. She wasn't sure she could come up with a more pretentious way to not say mutants if she spent a week thinking about it. Though she did agree that being coy about just who attended this school was necessary for safety. Calling it a school for mutants would make it a target.  
     “This is the place?” Kurt asked. “This is a school?”  
     You couldn't see the house from the front gate, but the neighborhood was pretty exclusively mansions. The hedges were sculpted in accordance with the local style. Charles must have agreed to disguise his school to get permission to run a business in this neighborhood. Not to mention mind-wiped the zoning board.  
     “Yeah, this is the school.” No more delaying, she really did need to talk to Charles if Erik was in trouble. Kurt teleported them to the front porch in three jumps. Mystique rang the doorbell, half-hoping Charles would open the door himself and save her the trouble of dealing with any children.  
     “Raven.” Hank answered the door, looking not at all like she would have expected.  
     “You're not blue.” Hank had very definitely been blue the last time she'd seen him. Also fuzzy. And not particularly happy about either.  
     “I've got medication for that now.” That explained things. Hank had always been brilliant. If anyone could find a solution, it would be him. He smiled at her. “You're not blue, either. I mean, you look g- just like you did when you lived here.”  
     “It draws too much attention most places.” Mystique frowned. She'd shaped herself in the image of Raven, Charles' little sister, in part to set him at ease, and in part because whenever she talked to Charles, she found herself with blond curls and round cheeks. She didn't want to look like a child to him, though. She aged her form up a few years. Hank gaped. He'd never been comfortable with her mutation either.  
     “I'm blue.” Kurt interrupted Mystique's thoughts. From Hank's startled expression, she wasn't sure he'd noticed Kurt in the first place. She stifled a giggle. Kurt was probably rarely overlooked.  
     “Hank, this is Kurt Wagner. A new student for the school. Kurt this is Dr. McCoy. He, uh, teaches here?” Hank nodded. “Hank, can you take care of Kurt for a bit? I really need to talk to Charles.”  
     “Charles isn't here. He and Alex went to Virginia this morning. They're looking into a psychic event that happened last night.” Hank cleared his throat, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Is there any way I could help?”  
     “Erik's in trouble-” Mystique started. Hank rolled his eyes.  
     “Well if Erik's in trouble.” Hank spoke Erik's name with bite. Mystique couldn't really blame him. Erik had tried to kill him before. Not everyone was as forgiving as her.  
     “Charles would want to know.” She finished pointedly. She knew her brother. He would always want to know if Erik were in trouble. He would always want to help. And not just because when Erik was in trouble he tended to make trouble. She glanced at Kurt, who was listening intently to their conversation. Hank took the hint and seized on a nearby student.  
     “Jubilation, this is Kurt Wagner, was it?” Kurt nodded. “He's a new student. Would you mind showing him around?”  
     “No problem, Dr. McCoy.” The girl took Kurt by the arm. Mystique watched her lead him down the hall and away from the adult conversation.  
     “You don't usually bring them in person.” Mystique turned back to Hank, who was watching her thoughtfully. She considered pretending she didn't know what he was talking about. Hank worked for the school, he'd know when they received new students. And the students themselves knew when she'd sent them.  
     “He's a teleporter. It was faster to come with him.”  
     “It would have been faster to use a telephone.” That hadn't even occurred to her. It wasn't easy for her to call overseas, but it would have been possible. And if the conversation was too much for the telephone, Charles could switched to telepathic communication.  
     “I should have thought of that.” She might have been able to catch Charles before he left.  
     “It's good to know you don't think of everything. That you're human like the rest of us.” Hank was smiling at her again. “It's okay to want to come home every now and then, Raven.”  
     “My name is Mystique.” She corrected, more gently than she would have once. This place still did feel like home. And Hank was an old friend, even if they rarely agreed on anything.  
     “Right. And you're here about Erik.” Hank sighed. “I'm sorry. The psychic event last night was a bit rough for us. One of the students ended up spreading her nightmare over the entire campus and I wasn't able to get much sleep. Charles won't be back until late so how about I show you around the school, catch you up on what we've been up to the last few years.”  
     “That sounds great.” Mystique accepted his olive branch. It was better, she had discovered, to be friends with people than to resent them. It tended to make them more likely to help you out in the future.


	10. Chapter 9

     When they arrived in the East Berlin warehouse, En Sabah Nur did not at first see the mutant Psylocke had brought them to. He saw the torn cage, the remains of a small electrical fire and some rotting human remains. Storm wrinkled her nose as she scanned the room and provided some air circulation to redirect the smell. She didn't seem to see anyone either. Psylocke did not look around. She looked up.  
     “Verpiss euch!” A voice called from the rafters. Telling them to piss off in German. En Sabah Nur followed Psylocke's gaze to the source of the words. A young man with wings stood on one of them, teetering slightly, a mostly empty bottle gripped loosely in his left hand.  
     “Idi na khui” Same sentiment, this time in Russian, throwing the bottle. It shattered at En Sabah Nur's feet. Mediocre aim, but he had correctly identified the one in charge. The boy dropped down from the beam he was standing on, using his wings to slow his fall. One wing didn't open all the way and he landed a little awkwardly.  
     “Piss off.” English this time. En Sabah Nur studied the young mutant. The wings were feathered, like a bird. His left wing was clearly broken at its wrist; its edge trailed on the ground. Talon-like bones protruded from the patagium. They looked like they had been sharpened, rather than like natural weapons.  
     “His fighting days are over.” Psylocke sounded disappointed, with the boy for his injury or with herself for suggesting him. En Sabah Nur shook his head.  
     “No.” The kind of mutant who would hone his own bone into a weapon was not someone En Sabah Nur wanted to waste. He reached forward and touched the boy. There was some room for improvement in his power. A second set of wings, a metal coating to protect them, knife like feathers that could be flung at an enemy. The process would hurt, but the boy was already in so much pain. From what En Sabah Nur could tell, the boy had forgotten the feeling of not being in pain. Once the new wings were finished, that alone would bind his loyalty. 

***********************************************************************************

     Alex pushed Charles' wheelchair up to the familiar entrance to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He hadn't thought he'd likely be back here again. Their previous experience with the CIA had been fairly positive, up until the U.S. military had almost nuked them. It was one of those bad endings that sort of spoiled the entire relationship. Still Moira had been nice and Alex had been looking forward to seeing her again until Charles' confession in the car.  
     “I erased her memory.” He'd said, the way you might confess to tearing up an ex-girlfriend's number. “Well, not actually erased. You can't actually erase someone's memory. I just blocked her ability to access the memories.”  
     That hadn't seemed any more ethical to Alex, but they'd needed to keep the CIA away from the school and Moira had known everything about the school. There probably hadn't been much choice.  
     The guard at the door directed them to Moira's office after a wave of Charles' hand. Alex leaned down and whispered in Charles' ear, “These are not the mutants you're looking for?”  
     Charles chuckled softly and dismissed two CIA agents walking near them with a quick, “Go about your business.”  
     “Who let you in here?” Moira snapped at them in an irritated tone when they entered her office. She was angrily organizing her desk, a task which Alex hadn't realized could be accomplished angrily.  
     “I'm sorry if we came at an inconvenient time, Dr. MacTaggert,” Charles used his soothing tone, the one that let him deal with a school full of teenagers. Moira didn't seem soothed.  
     “If you don't want to inconvenience people, there's this wonderful new device called a telephone. You can use it to schedule appointments.” Moira's sarcasm seemed to throw Charles off a little. He cleared his throat and tried again.  
     “I'm Charles Xavier, and this is my associate Alex Summers.” At the sound of his name, Moira lost some of her hostility.  
     “Dr. Xavier, it's an honor.” She stepped around her desk to shake Charles' hand, and then Alex's. “I'm a huge fan of your work.”  
     “Oh?” Charles blinked, startled.  
     “Yes, I've read all your papers on genetics. Your doctoral thesis on mutations was years ahead of its time.” She moved a chair away from the front of desk to make room for Charles' wheelchair and returned to her own seat. “I'm very sorry for being rude. I just came from an extremely unproductive meeting after a very long flight. What can I do for you?”  
     “Quite understandable.” Charles smiled, a bit goofily in Alex's opinion, at Moira. His eyes came to rest on some photographs behind her. “You have a son?”  
     “Yes, his name is Kevin. He's five.” Her voice was warm.  
     “So is he, I mean, are you married?” Alex refrained from rolling his eyes. Hank could give Charles lessons on how to talk to women and Hank was terrible at talking to women.  
     “Divorced.” Some of the warmth left her voice, though whether that was from bad memories of her marriage or the fact that someone ostensibly in her office for business reasons was asking about her personal life. “But I'm sure that wasn't what you wanted to see me about.”  
     “Indeed.” Charles resumed his serious professional demeanor. “Was that meeting you referred to, by any chance, about an incident that occurred in Egypt the other day?”  
     “I'm afraid the meeting was classified.” She eyed the two of them warily, as though suspecting them of being Soviet agents.  
     “I have level five clearance.” Charles must have put some psychic power into that sentence, because Moira didn't ask to see any proof of his clearance. Though he may have had proof; Alex didn't know if clearance was a thing that expired naturally and it wouldn't surprise him to find out that no one had ever bothered to revoke Charles' clearance. Or if Charles had “convinced” people not to revoke it.  
     “Yes, that was the subject of the meeting. What do you know about it?” Moira leaned forward across her desk.  
     “Very little, I'm afraid. Only that it was an extremely powerful psychic event.” Charles shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell us more.”  
     Moira flipped open a thick file on her desk and began briefing them on the cult of En Sabah Nur, beginning with their founding after the fall of an early Egyptian kingdom ruled over by En Sabah Nur himself and going forward to the modern cult.  
     “They've been apolitical, so we didn't have a lot of information on them. I was sent, officially, to attempt to sound them out on keeping Soviet diplomats out of Egypt.”  
     “Unofficially?” Charles prompted.  
     “En Sabah Nur may have been the worlds first mutant. Based on the few written accounts of his kingdom he was able to physically manipulate sand and rock, increase the strength of his followers, and transport himself between two places instantaneously. He was also extremely charismatic, but that may not be the result of a mutation. There are legends that indicate he was also able to transfer his consciousness from one body to another, making him functionally immortal. Though his history predates written language, so everything that was written about him was written hundreds of years after the fact.  
     “What all of the stories have in common is that wherever En Sabah Nur turns up there is destruction and death. Entire city-states have fallen. And every time he has four principle followers; powerful mutants in their own right, supposedly made more powerful by him.”  
     “Like the four horsemen of the apocalypse.” Alex interrupted, pleased to be able to contribute something. Moira and Charles turned to look at him, like they'd forgotten he was in the room. “They took that from the bible.”  
     “Or the bible took it from him.” Moira countered. Which was an unsettling thought.  
     “And you think the psychic event was his resurrection?” Charles questioned.  
     “I think that's a real possibility.” Moira was grave. 

***********************************************************************************

     Showing Kurt around the school was absolutely delightful. Mainly because Kurt himself was delightful. He hadn't even asked about her name. So far Jean had been the only other student at the school who hadn't either made fun of her or asked if her parents named her before they learned English. Jubilation had felt a little put out when Dr. McCoy had commandeered her time, but Kurt was cheerful and interested in everything and Jubilation couldn't wait to introduce him to Jean. Jean needed more fun people in her life.  
     They found Jean in her favorite spot outside for doing homework, along with Scott who had apparently gotten new glasses today. Scott wasn't Jubilation's favorite person, but he was alright – he'd _apologized_ for what he'd said about her name – and anytime someone got a better handle on controlling their powers it was a good reason to celebrate. She introduced Kurt to them and addressed Scott.  
     “So, Scott I see you've got some new eyewear.” Jubilation tapped the side of Scott's glasses, careful not to jostle them. “What are we doing to celebrate?”  
     “Um, I don't know.” Scott shrugged. Jubilation shook her head. So many boring people in her life. Time to see how much fun Kurt was willing to be.  
     “Okay, Kurt, the story is our friend Scott here just got a new pair of glasses which allow him to see without blowing everything up in front of him -”  
     “Dr. McCoy said it was concussive force, not an explosion.” Scott interrupted.  
     “My point is,” Jubilation continued ignoring the interruption, “that we should be doing something fun for Scott. Don't you think so?”  
     “Oh, yes, eindeutig.” Kurt nodded seriously. “But since the celebration is for Scott, it must be something he likes doing, yes? What does Scott like to do?”  
     “Hang out at the mall? Go to the movies? Normal sorts of things, I guess.” Scott answered.  
     “What is a mall?” Kurt asked. Jean and Jubilation both widened their eyes in surprise. Scott probably did as well, but she couldn't see behind his glasses. Did they not have malls in Germany? Or did the word not translate?  
     “Perfect!” Jubilation clapped her hands. “We have a mall with a movie theater nearby.”  
     “We'll have to drive.” Jean pointed out.  
     “Then it's a good thing you're coming along.” Jubilation agreed. She explained to Kurt, “Jean's the only one of us that has her driver's license. But there's one very important question before we go. Have you seen _Star Wars_ and _Empire_?”  
     “Of course.”  
     “Then we are definitely seeing _Return of the Jedi _.”__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel's German and Russian attempts to tell Apocalypse to fuck off are courtesy of cross checking google translate and multiple "how to swear in ___" sites. If they are incorrect/uncommon usage, please let me know and I will correct them.


	11. Chapter 10

     Magneto's house was unimpressive for such a powerful mutant. It even surprised Psylocke a little, and she was the one who had known where to find him. The house was small and in a state of disarray. Drawers were open, a chair was overturned. Storm and Psylocke left the room to look for Magneto, while Angel stayed by En Sabah Nur's side. A woman walked into the room, blinked at them and asked,  
     “Who are you?” Polish. Her voice was dull and uninterested. She had no power to speak of, an ordinary human, and was not worth his time. He did not answer her. She sighed, but didn't press her question. At least the woman knew her place.  
     “Magneto's not in the house.” Psylocke returned from her search of the house empty handed. She looked at the human woman, then glanced at Angel and raised her eyebrows, asking her question silently.  
     “The wife, I guess.” Angel shrugged. En Sabah Nur did not think that a man as powerful as Magneto was reputed to be would marry a mere human woman. He would not even bother keeping one as a concubine.  
     “What do you want with my husband?” The woman asked. Her voice was sharper with suspicion. Psylocke and Angel both frowned and at looked at him. They didn't speak Polish. The woman was visibly upset now. “Are you going to try to take him, too?”  
     En Sabah Nur did not deign to respond. He had not expected that anyone else would be after Magneto, though perhaps he should have. The powerful were often pursued, whether out of fear or for use as weapons for the weak. It was of little matter. The woman had said 'try to take' which meant Magneto was still free.  
     “He'll kill you, too.” The human woman was beginning to annoy him. “If you've come for him, he'll kill you. After he kills the men at the plant, the ones who sold him out.”  
     “Angel, kill her.” Immediately the young mutant fired three knife-like feathers into her chest. Annoying she may have been, however, she had provided him with useful information.  
     “Magneto is at work.” He informed his servants. “Presumably in town?”  
     “There's a steel plant.” Psylocke nodded. En Sabah Nur stepped out of Magneto's house. He had never enjoyed being in the presence of dead humans.  
     “There are bodies in the woods.” Storm was back from her outdoor exploration. “None of them were Magneto, but there was a freshly dug grave.”  
     “Unimportant. Magneto is alive.” En Sabah Nur waited for Storm to take her place beside him before teleporting again.

***********************************************************************************

     Peter wasn't really watching the television, but he kept it on anyway. It was reasonable background noise and every once in a while he could check in and see anything interesting had come on. At the moment it was news, talking about the anniversary of the failed assassination attempt on Nixon. Boring. It wasn't like there was any new information about the whereabouts of either Magneto or the woman who'd foiled it. So ten years ago some terrorist had tried to kill the president and failed. They didn't give this kind of attention to the time the very human Manson girl had tried to shoot Nixon. Or other more current events. Mutants made better television.  
     The report on anniversary celebrations segued into a background piece on Magneto. That Peter was interested in. He had been thinking more about Magneto since... well, recently. The reported had barely gotten into Magneto's time in a Nazi concentration camp when Peter's mother knocked on his bedroom door. She never waited for him to let her in, but she always knocked. Really, it wasn't like he didn't have plenty of time to cover up anything he might have been doing.  
     He switched the channel over to MTV, his usual preferred television viewing and moved from his bed down to the floor next to his baby sister, Sarah. Since he'd moved back home she'd taken to doing her homework in his room, ostensibly to get his help but really that was bullshit. Sarah was way smarter than him. Also way nicer. Overall, she was probably the best person in the whole family.  
     “You kids alright in here?” His mom had opened the door and was descending the steps down into his room. She didn't usually check in on them, so something must be up. Wanda, his step-sister, had called from grad school last night. She was doing her PhD at CalTech. Wanda was the smart kid in the family. He'd talked to her a little, the sort of nothing conversation he usually found super tedious but he missed her, so whatever. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to follow her if she'd talked about her research. He hadn't wanted to talk about anything serious.  
     “We're fine, Mom.” Sarah answered. Maybe what was up had to do with her. She was still in high school, after all. She had local friends and everything. Their mom could easily have some questions about the school play or some boyfriend she hadn't told him about yet. There was a lot of shit that went on in high school. He'd never liked school; had mostly stopped going well before he'd been kicked out. Wanda had mostly agreed with him, but Baby Sis didn't seem to mind her classes or her classmates.  
     “Sarah, would you mind giving me a minute with your brother?” Peter noticed Sarah's grip on her pencil tighten when their mom said her name and relax a bit as she kept talking. So there was something up with Sarah. He'd have to look into that later, if Mom was going to insist on a heart-to-heart now.  
     “Peter's helping me-” Peter glanced down at the assignment she was working on. Statistics. He probably wasn't any better at it than Sarah was, but at least it was something he could do. “-with my homework.”  
     “I'm sure your father could help you.” Peter dug an extra pencil out of Sarah's backpack and wrote thanks for trying next to the problem she'd been working on, then put the pencil back. Sarah blinked down at the message. She wouldn't be able to argue Peter was more help than her father. Her father was an actuary.  
     “Fi-ne.” Sarah grabbed her book and backpack and slowly trudged up the steps out of Peter's room. His mom watched her leave, which gave Peter time to do any last minute straightening he might need to do. There really wasn't much. The only thing that might be an issue was the business card he'd taken from that not-professor ten years ago. It was creased a bit from the times he'd taken it out and considered stopping by the not-school for information. He slipped the card into a book sitting on the ping pong table. Sarah shut the door behind her and his mom turned to him.  
     “Do you mind?” She pointed to the screen.  
     “Sure thing.” Peter got up and turned off the television. “Just background for the homework, really.”  
     “Oh?” His mom didn't sound like she believed him, which was kind of insulting. The television was almost always background noise. “I thought you might be watching that special report on Magneto.”  
     Of course. If his mom knew that was on television, she'd know he was watching it. Peter wondered if she'd seen it in TV guide or if she'd been watching it herself. Probably the guide. If his mom could pretend Magneto didn't exist she would. He didn't entirely get her reason for it, but he hadn't spent much time with the guy. She'd known him a lot better.  
     “They're not saying anything I don't know.” He wasn't going to deny watching the show.  
     “You're thinking of finding him, aren't you?” Peter froze. He had not been expecting that question. She wasn't wrong, though. He had been giving a lot of thought to finding Magneto lately.  
     “How'd you know?” As much as Peter loved his mother, she generally wasn't great at reading him.  
     “Wanda told me when we talked last night.” That made more sense. He hadn't actually said anything to Wanda about Magneto, but she'd been his closest friend nearly as long as they'd been step-siblings. She probably could read his mind.  
     “Why not? He is technically my father.” His mom looked down. She did not like acknowledging that previous relationship. But if she was going to talk about Magneto, Peter wasn't going to let her skip over the biological connection.  
     “I wish I'd never told you that.” She sighed. That had been obvious from the second she'd admitted it ten years ago. She'd confessed her previous relationship with Magneto the same night Peter had confessed to breaking him out of prison. It had been a pretty stressful evening all around. Maybe it would have been better not to know. But Peter did know. “He's a dangerous man, Peter.”  
     “Pretty sure he can't hurt me.” Peter pointed out. Magneto may be able to throw a lot of metal around, but Peter could outrun cars. There wasn't much that could physically hurt him. “I mean, I'm fast enough to dodge bullets.”  
     “I'm willing to pretend you know that due to carefully controlled experiments if you promise never to tell me how you found out.” His mother offered. It was a good deal. Peter took it.  
     “He doesn't scare me.” He returned to the point.  
     “He scares the shit out of me.” His mother admitted. Peter had known that, though. She'd told him that ten years ago, when she'd tried to explain why finding out she was pregnant led her to leave the man she'd been seeing and embark on the challenge of single motherhood. It was a major reason he hadn't sought his father out these last ten years. Even if the man wasn't a danger to Peter, he was still a danger to Peter's family.  
     “I promise I won't lead him back here. Or to Wanda.” It was the best he could offer. Peter wasn't going to let his mother's fear keep him from finding Magneto, but he would die before he let Magneto hurt anyone he cared about. “Didn't you say you wanted me to get out of the house more?”  
     “I was thinking about you visiting Wanda. Or maybe taking Sarah to that ice cream place she liked in Georgia?” His mother sighed again. She sounded resigned. “I guess I can't really stop you.”  
     He knew when she said that she meant 'be careful' and 'I love you.' Maybe even 'I hope you find what you're looking for.' But his mom had never talked to him that way, had never been able to. He wanted to tell her that he'd be fine, that he loved her too, but he'd never been good at saying things like that either.  
     “You never could.” She'd know what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate history note: The Manson girl Peter refers to is Squeaky Frome, who in real life was the first of two women to try to assassinate President Ford. Since mutants become a story in 1973, I'm positing that they provided enough distraction from the Watergate story to let Nixon finish out his term, rather than resigning in 1974. Frome tried to kill the president to get Charles Manson a new trial, so I'm assuming she would have tried to assassinate whoever was president.
> 
> There is no Scarlet Witch in the X-Men Movie Universe. Peter's step-sister being named Wanda should be viewed as a coincidence.


	12. Chapter 11

     They were able to find Magneto at his place of work. He had gathered the attention of all of his soon to be former coworkers by holding every piece of metal equipment in perfect stillness. Even the molten pig iron hung in the air, half-poured from a ladle. En Sabah Nur was just able to catch the end of the speech Magneto had been giving to them.  
     “-will feel what it means to lose the one whom they love most.” Clearly Magneto was planning on killing everyone here. Not an unsound plan.  
     The men in the foundry had noticed their arrival since En Sabah Nur had teleported them in behind Magneto. Magneto turned when he realized he no longer had their exclusive attention.  
     “The fuck are you?” He asked in English. En Sabah Nur was pleased that his four acolytes would have at least one common language. It made commanding them easier. Magneto continued, “Whoever you are, do not try to stop me from killing these men.”  
     It amused En Sabah Nur that Magneto would think he was there to stop the killing of mere humans. He let the earth beneath the men swallow them. A few fingers twitched above ground. Magneto stared at him, surprise warring with anger at vengeance denied. He released his hold on the metal of the building; a few pieces clattered to the ground. Magneto was the most powerful of the mutants En Sabah Nur had found so far, and even he had room to improve.  
     “This world has wronged you, my child.” En Sabah Nur began. Magneto visibly bristled at being called a child. “It fears power such as yours but does not respect it. It tries to suppress and control what should rightfully be worshiped. You all should be worshiped.”  
     En Sabah Nur addressed all of his four acolytes.  
     “You are the strongest of this world. You have the right and the obligation to rule it. Mere humans, weak as they are have kept you from your rightful place. Now that I have returned, I will correct these imbalances. You will have your respect. You will have your worship.” En Sabah Nur turned his focus to Magneto. “You will have your revenge.”

***********************************************************************************

     The mall was absolutely amazing. Kurt had never seen anything quite like it. He'd rarely been shopping in Munich. In Germany, his appearance kept him from going about in public too often. Here, although there were looks, people did not point or shout at him. None of the stores he entered asked him to leave. And there were so many stores. Possibly they had places like this in the larger cities in Germany.  
     The trip had begun with borrowing one of the Professor's cars. A convertible that Scott had lowered the roof of. They hadn't been able to find the keys, but Jubilation's powers were able to spark the ignition. Jean had had to drive since she was the one with the license. Once they'd arrived at the mall they checked the times of the movie and had some time to kill. Hence mall walking.  
     Kurt had been entranced by a store that sold shoes. An entire wall of sneakers rose up in front of him. So many styles and colors, but all sneakers. A sales man approached him, looked down at his hooves and shrugged. Kurt sighed. Obviously none of the shoes would be designed for people without feet.  
     He joined Jubilation and Jean who were looking at a display of sunglasses. Just as with the shoes, the sunglasses came in so many different styles and colors. The girls were enjoying trying on different pairs, and observing themselves in the mirror.  
     Scott, for obvious reasons had no interest in the glasses. He grabbed Kurt and dragged him into a dark storefront. A video arcade, he explained. Kurt had never played a video game before. Scott got him started with Pac Man, going over how to work the controls and the objectives of the game. Kurt was just starting to get the hang of it when the girls joined them. Jean challenged Scott to one of the two player games, while Jubilation stayed with him.  
     “Hey,” A young boy called out to Kurt. Next to him, Jubilation stiffened. “You've got a tail.”  
     “Yes, I do.” Kurt responded. The kid did not seem scared of him, at least.  
     “That's really cool.” The kid grinned. Jubilation relaxed. “Can you do anything with it?”  
     “I can move it.” Kurt waved his tail around, making it snake elaborately.  
     “Yeah, but can you do anything cool with it?” The kid asked. “Like play video games, or pick things up.”  
     “I'm not very good at video games with my hands.” Kurt attempted to press the buttons with his tail. His aim was fine, but it was hard to put sufficient pressure on them.  
     “If you're going to play with your tail, you should try one of the racing games.” Jubilation suggested. Being able to wrap his tail through the steering device gave him a much better level of control. Plus, the racing game was easier for him. Jubilation rolled her eyes. “Show-off.”  
     “Whoa.” It was nice to be able to impress the little boy at least.  
     “Are you playing with your tail?” Behind the glasses it was hard to read Scott's expression.  
     “Wait, seriously?” Jean's skeptical expression was easier to read.  
     “That is awesome.” Scott grinned and offered his hand for a high five. Using his tail apparently impressed boys and meant nothing to girls. Not a skill he really needed to cultivate, then.  
     Before the movie, they had enough time to go to the food court. Six different food stands representing food from three different countries. Variety seemed to be the common theme of American life. They got french fries and milkshakes, neither of which he'd ever had before. French fries were kind of bland, but the chocolate milkshake was amazing. He slurped it down too quickly, causing a sharp pain in his head. 'Brain freeze,' Jean called it. English was a very weird language.  
     Jubilation bought their movie tickets, as well as popcorn and sodas for all of them, her treat in celebration of Scott's renewed vision. Kurt would have to find some way to pay her back, though he was not sure how he would earn money while being a student. The movie was very good, at least. It was much nicer to see a movie in a theatre, in a real seat and with friends.  
     Before they left the mall, they made a final stop at a music store. Here, even though the store stocked a much more varied collection than he was used to seeing, Kurt felt more at home. Music, especially classical music, was something he had quite a bit of experience with. He flipped through the different operas while the others sought out more popular music.  
     One teenager was attempting to impress a girl by spinning records on his fingers. He was able to spin two at once in different directions. Much like with his ability to play racing games with his tail, the girl was insufficiently impressed. She rolled her eyes and walked away. Kurt approached the teenager.  
     “Excuse me,” he began, “but what you did with the records, is that a natural talent?”  
     “Are you saying I'm a mutie?” The teenager stood up to his full height, making him slightly taller than Kurt. Kurt had never heard the word 'mutie' before, but it wasn't hard to guess what it meant.  
     “Chill dude,” one of the men who was working at the record store intervened. “Pretty sure he just wants to know if you can teach him that trick.”  
     “Not with those fingers.” The teenager sneered.  
     “That's enough. You're leaving.” The man gestured to the door. Rolling his eyes, the teenager skulked out.  
     “Thank you.” Kurt had been called names before, but never had a stranger defended him.  
     “You kids from that special school are in here all the time. Gotta protect paying customers.” The man shrugged.  
     “Well, guess I've got to buy something today, then.” Kurt turned at Jubilation's voice. It was a little edgy. He wondered if she had heard the teenager talk before he left. She picked up a record from the new releases bin. “Bauhaus? Is that a German band?”  
     “I do not know them.” Kurt let her change the subject. The day at the mall had been so nice, he did not want to let one foolish boy ruin it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bauhaus is a British band. They are worth checking out.


	13. 12

     When Charles came back from his trip he brought Moira MacTaggert with him. This had apparently not been a part of the plan, or at least not one Hank had known about. He seemed surprised, and just a little displeased when they saw Moira getting out of the car. Mystique was confused by his attitude, before Hank explained.  
     “She's not going to remember you.” He warned her.  
     “I know it's been twenty years, Hank-” Mystique didn't generally consider herself to be the most memorable person, made a point of not being memorable in fact, but there were very few blue shapeshifters in the world.  
     “That's not what I meant.” Hank interrupted. He seemed reluctant to explain further, which could only mean one thing.  
     “Hank, what did my brother do?” Mystique kept her voice even, but she didn't doubt that Hank could hear her anger. She had a good idea what he'd done, though.  
     “It was to keep the kids safe, to keep the school safe.” Which, was a good reason, or at least a good excuse. Even so.  
     “He wiped her memory? Of all of this? Of us?” Hank nodded. “He does realize this makes him a huge hypocrite whenever he lectures on the ethical use of our powers at least?”  
     “No, I don't think he does.” Hank gave her a small, tight smile. She smiled back. She and Hank had even less in common than they had as teenagers, but they could still bond over her brother's complete lack of self-awareness.  
     Mystique opted not to greet Charles at the front door. She stayed back in his office and let Hank warn him. There wasn't much benefit to surprising Charles. He was too quick and she had never been able to shake him up for long. When he joined her in his office, he was alone.  
     “It's so good to see you, Raven.” Charles smiled warmly at her.  
     “It's good to see you, too, Charles.” Mystique did not correct him about her name. If it made her brother happy to call her Raven, that was fine. She could indulge him a little, especially since she wanted a favor.  
     “You could come visit more often. It's your home, too.” Mystique shook her head.  
     “It's your home, Charles. I just lived here.” Charles always elided the parts of their childhood that included influencing people into believing she belonged, or into not seeing her at all. Charles sighed. Mystique shook her head. There was no point in antagonizing Charles. “I'm sorry. Hank showed me around the school. You've done a great job with it.”  
     “Yes, though there's still a lot to do. We're only offering a few college courses right now. I hope to expand our curriculum to offer at least a liberal arts degree.” Once Charles got started on his school, he was hard to stop. “I'm also hoping to expand our student body to include human students as well.”  
     “Wait, human students? As in not mutants?” This was surprising to Mystique. Granted, she hadn't spoken with Charles in a long time, but he'd always talked about his school as a sanctuary for mutants. It wouldn't be much of a sanctuary if they still had to deal with ordinary humans.  
     “Of course,” Charles spoke as if his idea was an obvious fact. “Humans won't learn that they have nothing to fear from us if they don't interact with us.”  
     “It won't be safe.” Mystique might have to rethink her policy of sending the mutants she helped here.  
     “You gave me the idea, Raven.” He seemed disappointed with her reaction. “I thought you'd be pleased.”  
     “I? How?” Mystique ran out of words.  
     “After you saved Nixon everything changed.” Charles answered her question. “Everyone knew about mutants, but very few people knew how to think about mutants. People associated all mutants with you, with your actions, and began to think of mutants as people. Good people.”  
     “Charles, people don't like mutants anymore now than they ever did. They just have to be more polite about it.” She tried to think of the best way to explain things to her brother. “The mutants I keep sending to you school, where do you think I find them? They're in prisons, circus sideshows. I'm not finding mutants in happy homes and sending them to you. Kurt was being forced to fight in a cage for the entertainment of humans. And you want to bring people like that into his school?”  
     “Who's Kurt?” Trust Charles to focus on the least important part of what she said.  
     “He's your newest student.” Mystique said, sharply. She didn't come here to talk about Kurt. Charles looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you reading my mind?”  
     “No, just wondering when I started needing to.” Charles turned his head to look out the window. “I miss the days when I always knew what you were thinking.”  
     “Those days never really existed.” Mystique corrected her brother, gently. He'd always meant well, at least, and that counted for a lot. “Except possibly when I was very young, and you were always in my head by accident.”  
     “Hank said you came here about Erik.” Charles was apparently ready to move on. Mystique was more than ready to do that.  
     “I was told he was in trouble.” She told him everything she knew. “I don't know where he is, though, or if there is anything I, or we, can do to help.”  
     “You want me to use Cerebro?” Obviously.  
     “Unless you know something I don't.” Not impossible. Even though Charles and Erik were often at odds, they had been very close, as close as she'd ever been with either of them. She wouldn't be shocked if Erik was still in touch.  
     “Not about Erik.” He caught her up on what he'd learned from Moira.  
     “You think the two things are connected?” An ancient mutant and problems for Erik. Not the best of combinations.  
     “The timing seems too coincidental otherwise.” Coincidences bothered Mystique. They happened all the time, but they still bothered her.

***********************************************************************************

     Hank found it somewhat awkward to reintroduce himself Moira. He'd done a little work with her back when he'd worked at the CIA. He wondered if she remembered the lab work he'd done and assigned it to someone else. It was probably a bad idea to ask her, though. Moira herself was taking in the school with wonder, almost the same way she'd reacted to the building when she'd first seen it. Hank shared a look with Alex who evidently found it just as strange as he did. Then again, most people had similar reactions to the Xavier family mansion at first sight.  
     Raven handled 'meeting' Moira much better than he had. Hank wondered if she'd been through this before. If Charles had been more willing to manipulate peoples' memories when he was younger. Charles explained the plan to everyone. First, he would use Cerebro to contact Erik and see if he needed any help. Then, provided Erik's difficulties were neither urgent nor related this En Sabah Nur Moira had told Hank about, Charles would look for evidence of what the apparently ancient mutant was up to. It didn't seem likely to Hank that they would need to move to that second step.  
     With Moira, Alex and Raven joining them, Cerebro felt more crowded than Hank tended to think of it. He stepped back to stand with Raven, leaving Alex to help Charles and Moira stare at Cerebro in wonder. Possibly due to her presence, Charles opted to use Cerebro at full power, projecting everything into everyone's heads. Instead of the usual blue and red dots, Hank, and presumably everyone else, saw the outlines of all each person, of each mutant, and finally of Erik himself. Erik's image stood alone. Most of the images had light trailing off of them, symbolically tying them to other people. Hank was wondering if the lack of ties was typical of Erik when Charles opened them up to Erik's mind. Loss, pain, and above all anger. Beside him Raven took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Hank imitated her and tried to maintain distance. Hank had never been so close to being inside another person's mind before. It felt wrong.  
     “Erik,” Charles spoke out loud. Or Cerebro was increasing his power to the point that words were being projected directly into each participant's mind. “I know what happened to your daughter.”  
     “Charles, I wondered when I was going to hear from you.” Erik's voice echoed in Hank's skull. “You know what happened. Do you know why it happened?”  
     “It wasn't your fault, Erik.” It probably didn't need to be said, but it was better to be certain.  
     “I know, Charles. It was the fault of people too afraid of the mutation to see the little girl. It was the fault of men too frightened of power to notice when it saved a life. Cowardice, weakness are at fault.” Bitterness dripped off of Erik's words.  
     “I know what you're feeling right now-” Charles started, but Erik interrupted.  
     “How can you say that?” Erik's mental voice shouted the question, then returned to normal volume. “You've spent time in my head, Charles, but you have never known what I felt. If you did you could never ask me to spare them.”  
     Spare who? Hank wondered. Was Erik talking about the sailors in Cuba? The politicians in Washington? Or the soldiers who'd murdered Erik's daughter?  
     “Erik, I realize you're hurting,” Charles paused but this time Erik did not interrupt him. “And what happened to your daughter was a great injustice. But it was caused by the actions of a very small number of people. A handful of cowards, Erik, not a world full of them.”  
     There was an ominous weight to the silence that followed. Hank strained to hear anything beyond the sound of his own breathing.  
     “Erik,” Charles tried again.  
     “Erik is done talking to you.” The voice was unfamiliar. “He tells me you are powerful. More powerful than he was, even. But you are no match for me.”


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the death of a minor character.

     En Sabah Nur had considered not taking the time to craft armor for his acolytes. Between his own powers and that of his servants, his children, any physical armor he could craft would provide little in the way of additional protection. Even if anyone offered them resistance there would be little they could do against his overwhelming force. Still, armor was about more than simple protections. A unified look brought a certain intimidation factor. It created the impression of an organized force, which would reduce resistance in the first place. Also, having matching armor would engender a feeling of unity amongst his servants. Since En Sabah Nur planned on conquering the entire world in a relatively short time frame, that feeling would be useful.  
     In spite of the short time since gathering his servants, En Sabah Nur was beginning to understand them, and see how they would work both together and separately. Magneto was all anger and violence. He would be an asset as long as En Sabah Nur could keep him pointed in the right direction. Magneto was a loner, though; already he was standing away from the others, separating himself. Isolating himself, even. On the other side of scale, Storm and Psylocke seemed to be developing a close relationship. En Sabah Nur had some concerns about Storm. She had a good understanding of how her power placed her above others, but she had an unfortunate sense of compassion for those who were weaker. Once he ruled this world it would not matter. She could offer mercy to his subjects; he did not mind. But mercy too soon could be deadly. And worse, her misguided sense of compassion could be masking a more general distaste for violence, which could prove problematic. Psylocke was of a much more practical bent. While she was still confident in her recently increased power, she was more cautious with it. More mature. Hopefully, she could guide Storm through the practicalities of their position. En Sabah Nur had no worries about either her effectiveness nor her loyalty. As with his Angel, probably his most loyal follower. Not content with merely being marked by his armor, Angel had asked to be marked on his flesh. Neither Psylocke nor Storm were so inclined.   
     “How can you say that?” Magneto's voice echoed in the quiet. En Sabah Nur took his thumb away from Angel's face. Angel turned towards the sound. Storm flinched. Psylocke stood, preparing to confront a potentially insane Magneto. Angel stepped towards him as well, looking back to En Sabah Nur for guidance.   
     En Sabah Nur was listening. He was confident that Magneto was not the type to hear voices that weren't speaking. A hand signal commanded Psylocke and Angel to be still. He could not hear anything with his ears, so he listened for some other signal. Ah, there it was. Not sound. Something mental.   
     “Who are you talking to?” He asked Magneto.  
     “An old friend. A telepath.” Magneto explained. A powerful telepath, apparently. En Sabah Nur found the signal in the air and followed it back to the telepath. It was incredible.  
     As he investigated he could see that the telepath's power was not as impressive as he had at first thought. It was being augmented through some sort of mechanical means. Usefully augmented, because it was the device that could give him an in. Quietly, he felt the reach, the power of the machine. With such a device, and a telepath to work it, one could control every mind on earth.  
     “Erik?” The telepath was looking for Magneto.  
     “Erik is done talking to you.” En Sabah Nur reached out through the telepath. All those minds within his reach. “He tells me you are powerful. More powerful than he was, even. But you are no match for me.”  
     He could feel the telepath, Charles, start to pull back, but it was too late. En Sabah Nur had a firm grasp on the telepath's mind, and through it more control over his subjects than he had ever experienced before. Through the machine, he sought out the minds with access to the world's arsenals. He narrowed his focus down to those whose current responsibility was firing a nuclear weapon. Those minds he took over.   
     Around the world, missiles were launched. Submarines surfaced and fired their nukes directly into the air. Silos opened. En Sabah Nur did not bother to have them aimed. They would never reach their targets. They were made of metal, after all.  
     “Magneto,” he instructed, “send all of the bombs I've fired into space.”  
     He did not bother to check that his order was fulfilled. It was taking much of his concentration to keep a hold on all of those minds. The telepath was struggling against him. It would not be enough; the telepath was not strong enough to fight him. Although his gripe on the telepath remained strong, he could feel is control of the humans slipping. The device! While it could not be turned off while he held the telepath in his grasp, it could still be destroyed.   
     “Come to me,” En Sabah Nur called to his children. The machine could be destroyed, but he doubted the telepath would think to destroy himself. With the enhancements he could provide, the machine might not even be necessary. And now he knew where the telepath was.

***********************************************************************************

     The sound of the unknown voice sent a chill down Hank's spine. He turned to Raven in alarm, she shook her head. It wasn't a voice that she knew either. Charles cut them off from Cerebro. Obviously he could no longer spare the power to share the psychic experience.  
     “What's happening?” Moira asked.   
     “Something's gone wrong.” Alex answered, both accurately and uselessly. He messed with the manual controls on Cerebro's main panel. “I can't turn off Cerebro.”  
     “I'd guess a more powerful psychic had taken over.” Mystique offered. “Was this Saban Ur you told us about a telepath?”  
     “En Sabah Nur,” Moira corrected, “And I honestly don't know. What was written about him was written hundreds of years after the fact. So much of it sounds exaggerated, but he was a very powerful mutant. I'd assume so, given the circumstances.”  
     “Alex,” Charles' voice was strained. It was obviously a great effort for him to talk. “I can't stop him. I need you to destroy Cerebro. Wreak havoc.”  
     Alex nodded. He stepped slightly away from Charles and Moira and began lobbing disks of force at Cerebro's panels. Nearly half of them were destroyed before Charles slumped forward in his chair. Raven stepped forward and removed his helmet.  
     “Charles, are you alright?” She asked him. “What happened?”  
     “He's coming.” Charles rasped.  
     “Who's coming?”  
     The door to Cerebro opened. He, Alex and Moira all turned to face it. Magneto stood in the hall, with four other mutants that Hank did not recognize. A black woman, or maybe girl, with white hair, an Asian woman, and a man with metallic wings all stood behind a large, imposing looking man.   
     “Them, I'd guess.” Alex shifted into a fighting stance. Moira drew a gun, but kept it pointed at the ground. The new arrivals did not seem interested in fighting, however. Raising his hand, Magneto lifted Charles' chair and pulled it back to towards them. Alex ran down the walkway after it. He flung another disk at the group, but what seemed to be a purple whip of energy deflected it into the wall. Moira raised her gun and fired. Hank wasn't sure if her shot missed or if had been blocked somehow.  
     “Alex, stop!” Hank called, but Alex wasn't listening. He continued his single-minded charge. Erik picked Charles up and threw the chair at Alex. Alex flung it aside with another blast of energy. The Asian woman stepped in front of Erik and Charles and cracked her whip. It struck Alex across his chest and neck. He fell forward onto his knees. Alex managed to throw one last disk before collapsing entirely. The five intruders and Charles vanished in a black sphere, and the disk crashed uselessly into the wall of Hank's lab. With the immediate danger past, Hank ran to his prone friend.  
     His feet skidded when he got close to Alex. Hank slid to the floor and flipped Alex over. There was blood, so much blood. The whip must have had some sort of edge to it. A precisely shaped energy beam, perhaps. Not heat, as that should have cauterized any wounds. Hank tried to force his mind towards more practical concerns, but was having trouble focusing on Alex in front of him. His mind kept bringing up trivialities.  
     “Hank,” Raven had arrived to help at some point. She had torn Alex's shirt and was pressing down on the wound on his chest. “Hank, I need you to hold this for me.”  
     He placed his hands next to hers and pressed down. Of course Raven would know what to do, would manage to be cool under pressure. Hank had always been a lab guy. Violence was not his area. Every time he ended up in a combat situation he further confirmed that belief. Hopefully Raven's experience would save Alex's life.  
     “Shit.” Raven sat back. Blood covered her hands. There was blood on his hands, too.  
     “What? Why are you stopping?” Hank knew why. He just didn't want to think it.  
     “It's over, Hank.” He wanted to protest, to yell at Raven, to yell at Alex, even. But there was no point.  
     “Shit.” He echoed Raven and sat back, away from the corpse of what had been one of his best friends. Hank was sick of losing friends. “What am I going to tell Scott?”  
     “Scott?” Raven asked.  
     “Alex's little brother. He goes to school here now.” Hank moved his hand to adjust his glasses before remembering that his hands were covered in blood. Alex's blood. “We need to get Alex – get the body out of the hall. And clean ourselves up.”  
     Hank picked Alex up and carried him to their basement infirmary; the one Charles had put in next to his lab in case of accidents. Raven followed him. Moira trailed a little bit behind them. Hank put Alex down on the cot and started washing his hands in the sink. He was going to need more than that, but it was a start.  
     “There's a shower in my lab.” He offered Raven. “It's there in case of a chemical spill but it's water.”  
     “Psylocke shouldn't have been able to do that.” Raven looked down at Alex. Her voice trembled slightly.  
     “Psylocke? You know her?” Hank probably shouldn't have felt surprised. Raven knew lots of people.  
     “Not really. Not well. She works for an information broker of a sort. Caliban.” Raven shrugged. “Worked for, I guess. She was his body guard. I'm pretty sure I've seen the one with the wings before, too. He was being kept as a cage fighter in Germany. He was fighting Kurt when I rescued him.”  
     “Are you going to be calling the police?” Moira asked. Hank stared at her blankly before remembering that she was a trained field agent and that she didn't know Alex anymore. Of course she wouldn't feel the loss.  
     “No. We can't afford to let the police down here without Charles.” Hank wasn't entirely certain how much local authorities knew about the school. He was fairly sure some of them didn't know it was here at all. He pulled off his shirt and used the clean parts to dry his hands. He had a change of clothes in his lab that he could get as soon as Raven finished cleaning up.  
     “If we were in another country, I could officially take charge of the murder and keep law enforcement out of it. I don't know if there's anything I can do here.” Moira frowned. “I might be able to get my boss to call in a favor.”  
     “We can hold off on dealing with that until we get Charles back.” Raven came back into the room. “That needs to be our first priority. I don't know what those guys want with Charles but it can't be good.”  
     Hank showered off quickly, trying to ignore the cold temperature of the safety shower. His clothes, at least, were undamaged by the blast. He couldn't say the same for a few of his experiments and, unfortunately, his medication. He counted back to his last dose. He still had a few hours until this one wore off.  
     “Man, this place is really a mess. Why is there a dead body in the next room?”


	15. Chapter 14

     Peter had forgotten how great it felt to run. To really run, to dodge past cars that might as well have been parked in the middle of roads. To let the music play in his headphones and not worry about slowing down to deal with people. He hadn't been running like this since he'd left New York and those last few months in the city he had stuck close to the island, not taking the jobs that would have taken him on long trips. He hadn't wanted to be away for any length of time. Peter had relished his runs when he was younger, but it still surprised him how much better he felt just running around.   
     He stopped long enough to flip the cassette in his red Walkman and watched the cars on the freeway inch their way forward. He had to stop to flip the tape or he'd break the Walkman. He didn't want to have to get a new one. It wasn't really replaceable.   
     Maybe he should have listened to his mother when she'd tried getting him to visit Wanda. That would have meant a longer run, but it would have had the downside of ending in Los Angeles. Also, he'd probably have had to stay there a bit, spend some quality time with his step-sister. Really, it was time to take a break from the people who cared about him. And it was always a good time to avoid Los Angeles.  
     It wasn't just the run itself that was making him feel better, it was the sense that he was actually doing something productive. Even if this Not-Professor Xavier didn't know exactly where Magneto was now, he probably had a better idea than most people. They'd definitely had a past. You don't break someone out of prison and then punch them in the face without some serious history.   
     The traffic thinned out near Westchester county. Fewer people would want to go there when the city was so close. The closer he got to the address printed on the card, the less interesting the area looked. Tall hedges and long driveways hiding huge, mostly empty houses. Peter investigated a few of them. Not even anything worth stealing, let alone anything of interest. When he got to the right address, he hesitated. The sign for the school was prominently displayed. The hedges were well groomed. A car full of teenagers was turning into the driveway. It seemed like the whole school thing was back on, which didn't bode well for that Not-Professor still living there. He'd not seemed the teaching type.  
     Then again, it was on his business card in the first place, and it was his name on the school, so maybe he'd just gotten into back into it. People could change in ten years. And it wasn't like going in was committing himself. He didn't have to talk to Xavier if he found him. And if they did talk, he didn't have to use anything he found out. There was always enough time to change his mind later.  
     Peter slipped past the car filled with teenagers and down the driveway. The grounds looked pretty nice, but it didn't take long to see that Xavier wasn't outside. There were several classrooms on the ground floor, but he wasn't teaching in any of those either. Though one of the teachers looked a bit like Dazzler, which was pretty weird. She was a singer, not a teacher. Peter almost checked that classroom again, but that would definitely disrupt the lesson. He had no good reason to do that. Besides, if it was Dazz, she'd want to catch up. He wasn't sure he was ready for that.  
     There was also an office and a bedroom on the ground floor, but both of those were empty, as were the bathrooms. Paperwork in the office desk named Charles Xavier as the school's headmaster, so he was in the right place. The upper floors were a mix of bedrooms and classrooms. No sign of the Now-Professor in any of those. The attic was only storage. Peter dug around a little, but it wasn't particularly interesting. And still no Professor. He was either out, or there was a basement.  
     Given the layouts of the other mansions Peter had looked at, there probably was a basement. He hadn't seen any obvious basement doors when he'd looked downstairs the first time. He had seen what seemed to be an elevator in the Professor's office. He probably should have checked it out then, but, elevators. Elevators were awful. Voluntarily locking himself in a small room with no control of when he could get out of it? Stairs were always better. He went back down to check. It was an elevator. The buttons weren't labeled, but there were more buttons than there were floors. He pressed the lowest one and settled in to wait. Elevators were terrible. He could feel it moving down, so at least he was right about a basement. He paced the confines of the room tapped his foot impatiently to the beat of the music. The song ended. And he was still in the elevator.  
     Tens of seconds later the doors opened into the basement. It wasn't like any other basement Peter had seen. For one, it wasn't filled with clutter. It also had separate rooms along a central hallway that was as well lit as the upper floors. It was sparse and modern-looking; totally unlike the upstairs. And, also unlike the upstairs, there was a puddle of blood on the floor. Not generally a good sign. Peter checked out each room in the basement quickly. A mostly wreaked spherical room, a somewhat less damaged lab where a guy was getting dressed, a room with a corpse and two women, and an airplane hanger complete with an actual airplane. He walked around the plane a couple of times. It was still an airplane and it looked more like a military one than a passenger one. Weird thing to keep in the basement. A storage room with canned goods and other supplies. Probably their bomb shelter. Still no sign of the Professor, though. But he'd recognized the guy changing in the lab as one of the two guys who'd been with the Professor ten years ago. The cute one. Also the brains. He'd known Magneto, too. He might know something.   
     Peter went back to the lab, leaned against the door and said, “Man, this place is really a mess. Why is there a dead body in the next room?”  
     The guy jumped and made a surprised, squealing sound. Peter grinned. Startling people was fun. He walked around behind the guy and jumped up to sit on the lab counter. He switched cassettes, replacing his running music with one of his talking to people tapes that Stevie had made for him. It had a slow and consistent rhythm, good for gauging the speed other people thought at. He let his earphones rest on his neck and turned the volume up a little so he could still mostly hear the music.  
     “Peter?” Brains apparently remembered him. That would make things easier.  
     “What's happening?” Peter had almost forgotten about the women in the next room. It was the younger one who was talking, the blond. She'd been in a picture on the Professor's desk. The brunette stood behind her. Peter hopped down from the lab counter and moved to sit in the one chair in the room.  
     “Yep, s'cool you remembered my name. Sorry I forgot yours. Kept calling you Brains in my head.” He'd also called him the cute one, but that didn't pair as well with Brawn and he'd tended to think about them as a pair of minions to the now-Professor. He stood up and walked over to the doorway where the women were standing. “Don't know you two, though.” He considered picking their pockets to get their names, but women usually carried their ids in purses, which neither one had at the moment. He went back over to the lab counter and perched. It was the best seat in the room. He swung his legs, careful not to kick the table too quickly. “I was actually looking for Professor Xavier. Any of you know where he is?”  
     “You just missed him.” Brains answered. “He was abducted about a few minutes ago.”  
     “Abducted?” Peter stopped swinging his feet. Abducted was not a good situation. Abducted meant he couldn't give Peter any information on Magneto until he was found. “Do you know who took him?” If they knew who took him, Peter might be able to find him and get him back. Unless they took him just to kill him, but that wasn't likely. If they'd wanted to kill the guy they could have done that here. “Is that how that guy in the next room died?”   
     “Hank, who is this?” Blondie asked Brains. So Brains was named Hank. And this was going to take a while, because normal people needed normal introductions. He'd been spoiled by spending so much time with people who were used to him.  
     “I'm Peter.” He went with his real name, since that was how Hank already knew him. He wasn't sure how much the women knew so he added, “I did some work for the Professor awhile back.”  
     “This is Raven, Charles' sister and Moira MacTaggert. She works for the CIA.” Hank gestured first at the blond, then the brunette. Knowing everybody's name was good, but none of this was solving their missing professor problem.  
     “Mystique.” The blond corrected him. A code name. That was pretty cool. “What kind of work did you do for my brother?”  
     Peter glanced at Hank, trying to ask silently if it was okay to tell Mystique everything. He couldn't tell from Hanks expression so he just said, “Criminal work.”  
     “Peter helped us get Magneto out of prison.” Hank elaborated. Which meant both Mystique and the CIA agent were allowed to know everything.  
     “Helped? I seem to recall doing most of the work.” Peter kicked the counter with his heels. He nodded at Hank, “I'll give you credit for keeping me off camera, but the fire alarm was totally unnecessary and both the Professor and Brawn were completely useless.”  
     “You broke Magneto out of prison?” The CIA agent sounded shocked. Mystique, on the other hand, didn't seem at all surprised. Either she'd known or expected it. “Why would you do that?”  
     “Wanted to impress a guy.” Peter admitted. It had sort of worked. Really, he'd mostly wanted to see if he could do it. That sort of answer tended to creep people out, though.  
     “We thought we needed him.” Hank explained at the same time.   
     “What did you need Magneto for, anyway?” Peter asked. “You were taking him to Europe, weren't you? Magneto told me he'd killed Kennedy. Was killing Nixon part of the original plan?”  
     “You helped break an assassin out of prison and you didn't ask why?” Peter was starting to think the CIA Agent might be a little slow on the uptake.  
     “Was more interested in the how. Whys are boring. And they take way too long.” Peter shrugged. They were drifting off topic, though. “More importantly, who took the professor? How do we get him back?”  
     “He was taken by a mutant called En Sabah Nur.” Mystique answered him. “As for how to get him back, we're open to suggestions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing against Los Angeles. I'm not sure where Peter found his distaste for the city.


	16. Chapter 15

     Once he had the telepath, En Sabah Nur teleported himself and his followers into the small house in Cairo where he had made Storm. His last empire had ended here; here his new one should begin. Magneto lay the semiconscious telepath on some carpets. Storm and Psylocke took positions by the door to keep any children away. En Sabah Nur sat in the only chair in the room, with Angel standing behind him like an honor guard.  
     “You have the missiles?” He asked Magneto. Magneto nodded confirmation. He stood back, eyes closed, focused. It would probably be best to let Magneto finish his task before beginning the next stage of the plan.  
     En Sabah Nur attempted to feel out the power of the telepath. It was too difficult to get a solid assessment before the man woke. While hooked up to the machine, the telepath had easily been the most powerful mutant En Sabah Nur had seen. Such power could not be left in someone else's hands. It was time for him to acquire a new power. Once he became a telepath, no mutant could threaten him. He could take over the mind of any enemy.  
     Unfortunately, the process for taking a new body would leave him temporarily incapacitated. Also, in order to maintain all of the powers he currently had, a ritual would need to be performed. A ritual that required time, and also a a conduit to channel the necessary power. All of which would leave him vulnerable. He was confident that his servants could handle most threats, but a little extra caution would not go amiss. He had been betrayed by his followers before. He would not be betrayed again.  
     Before he could begin the ritual, he would have to build a structure to serve as a conduit. There was no chance such a structure could pass unnoticed. While Magneto was proving adept at redirecting missiles, En Sabah Nur knew that his best chance of success required those weapons be dealt with prior to constructing a new pyramid. And to deal with the remaining nuclear weaponry, he needed to use the telepath.  
     He probed the telepath again. The man was awake, though not fully aware of his situation. He was powerful, even without the machine. En Sabah Nur reached for the minds he had held before. The minds were there, but slightly out of reach. Even with the boost in power En Sabah Nur could provide the telepath was not strong enough to take over so many minds at one time over such a great distance without mechanical aide. Well, a machine could be rebuilt, but that would also take time. He would need to modify his plan.  
     Since the remaining nuclear weapons could not be handled now, it would be better to perform the ritual in a location that each of the so-called super powers would hesitate to bomb. En Sabah Nur considered what he knew of the recent proxy conflicts.  
     “We are relocating, my children.” En Sabah Nur transported them into the mountains of Afghanistan, overlooking a Russian army base. “Magneto?”  
     “The bombs are in space. If they explode, it will be above the atmosphere.”  
     “Excellent. I need you to destroy those tanks.” He pointed down the mountain. Magneto nodded again. “Psylocke, Angel, I need you two to handle any remaining soldiers.” Angel launched himself in the air and hovered momentarily. Psylocke jumped to catch his hand and he flew the two of them into the base.  
     “Should they have some weather for cover?” Storm asked. En Sabah Nur smiled at her. It was good that she was eager to help.  
     “It might be useful. However,” he continued, “I will be performing a ritual here shortly. For the ritual to work properly, I will require perfect weather conditions. No clouds. No rain. No wind. Is it possible to start a storm now and dismiss it entirely in a few hours?”  
     “If that is what you need, I will find a way.” Storm responded. Good girl. “But it will be much easier if I begin to clear the weather now.”  
     “Your honestly is commendable. Clear the weather.” It was important to have servants who told him what he needed to know, rather then just what they thought he'd want to hear. En Sabah Nur turned his attention back to the telepath. If he could not yet control the world, he could at least announce his presence. Once again, En Sabah Nur reached into the telepath's power, opening his mind to the other man as he provided the extra strength to the signal. The minds of the worlds mutants lay out before him. It was too bad he did not yet have sufficient power to take full control of them. He could, however, speak to them.  
     “My Children,” En Sabah Nur addressed the mutants of the world, “There is no need for you to cower in shelters. These weapons of the weak are no longer of any threat to you. Too long have the weak been allowed to rule this world. Too long have the weak been allowed the illusion of power. But it shall be allowed them no longer! These cowards' weapons are nothing before real power. They are nothing before me. Their armies, their alliances, their missiles may have had the strength to rule over mere mortals, but they cannot strike at God.   
     “My Children, I speak to you to tell you that I have returned. I have mastered the weapons of your so-called 'super powers' and rendered them useless. I speak to you to say that the rulers of this world have already been defeated. Their time is already past. Come, pledge yourselves to me, and I shall make this world yours.”  
     En Sabah Nur released his hold on the telepath and felt the minds of the worlds mutants slip away from him. The strongest of them would be joining him soon. He needed to prepare.   
     Magneto had cleared the area of tanks, crushing them into a metal sphere. On the flat, empty plane that remained, En Sabah Nur began the construction of his temple. Building his own temple took far less time than having his subjects build it for him, a matter of hours instead of months, and it had the additional advantage of preventing any unforeseen betrayal. It lacked, however, a certain ceremony, a feeling of majesty. Still, it was necessary. He did not, at this moment have enough subjects to build for him. Once he performed the ritual, though, he would have the telepath's power and never face betrayal again.

***********************************************************************************

     “We have to go to Afghanistan.” Jean's friends gaped at her. They had just gotten back from their mall trip. Jubilation and Kurt had been discussing German music. Scott had been looking forward to show his new glasses to his brother. None of that mattered now. The entire world had just changed. She looked at each of the four of them in turn. “Didn't you just hear that?”  
     “Yeah.” Jubes had dropped her shopping bag when the voice had started speaking in their heads. “A mysterious voice just told us to go there to worship him. Nothing about that sounds like a good idea. And what was that shit he was saying about weapons?”  
     “Uh, I think I know what he meant there.” Scott was looking out of the window. Puffy white lines trailed up the sky. They looked a little bit like clouds. Jean knew that they weren't. They all knew they weren't.  
     “Grosse Gott.” Kurt murmured. He slipped his hand into his pocket. His lips moved silently. Praying on his rosary beads, Jean realized. She hoped his prayers would do some good.  
     “We have a shelter here, right?” Scott asked. They were stuck on the wrong problem.  
     “Yeah, in the basement.” Jubes nodded. Jean shook her head.  
     “Guys, what about the rest of the message?” She pressed.  
     “That we shouldn't be afraid?” Scott snorted. “World War three's just started. I'm not taking the word of some strange telepathic message that everything's going to be okay.”  
     “He has the Professor!” Jean snapped. Her friends stopped, puzzled. Clearly, they hadn't received the same message that she had. “The Professor sent me a message, separate from what the other guy was saying. Told me that there wasn't much time, that we had to rescue him.”  
     “Okay. But can we do that?” Jubes chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “How do we even get to where the Professor is? Kurt, can you teleport us there?”  
     “I do not think so. I have to see where I am going.” Kurt shook his head.  
     “Even if he could, do we even know where in Afghanistan the professor is? It's not exactly a small country.” Scott's point was valid. Jean didn't know, exactly. But she was sure she would be able to find him.  
     “You are not thinking about going to Afghanistan.” Dr. McCoy came up the basement stairs. He looked...not good. Frightened, Jean noticed, when she focused on his emotions. Dr. McCoy was scared. Hurt, too. No, not merely hurt, devastated. And, in spite of the pressing nature of the megalomaniacal supervillian who'd just invaded everyone's minds, oddly focused on Scott. Jean pulled herself back from Dr. McCoy's feelings before she was tempted to look deeper.  
     “Jean got a message from the Professor.” Jubes explained.  
     “He said to use the plane you think he didn't know you built.” Jean offered. Dr. McCoy sputtered. Jean could practically hear him forming the words of a denial.   
     “Told you he knew about it. It can be very difficult to hide things from Charles.” A blond woman had followed Dr. McCoy up the stairs. She looked vaguely familiar, but Jean couldn't place her. She was a little younger than Dr. McCoy. Maybe she'd still been a student when Jean first came here. “I think we're going to need them for our plan.”  
     “They're children, Raven.” Dr. McCoy objected. The woman, Raven apparently, just kept walking towards the professor's office.  
     “So were we, once.” She paused in the doorway. “They have information we don't. We need them, Hank.”  
     “We're supposed to protect them.” Dr. McCoy was looking at Scott again. Scott hadn't noticed, but Jean was worried. “Scott?”  
     “Yes?” Scott was still focused on smoke trails that were visible out the window. Jean could feel his distraction as well as Dr. McCoy's trepidation.  
     “May I speak to you in private for a few minutes?”

***********************************************************************************

     Hank took Scott into the empty kitchen. He had occasionally had to give bad news to people, but never anything this bad. It wasn't the same as telling someone that they'd failed a test. It wasn't even the same as telling someone that their mutation might never be something they could control.   
     “Scott,” he started, then paused. There really was no good way to say this. “When the Professor Xavier was abducted, Alex tried to stop it from happening.”  
     “Well, of course he did.” Scott frowned. He was right, of course Alex would have tried to stop the abduction. Alex always acted, even if he didn't have a good chance of succeeding, or even a decent plan. Scott was starting to realize the serious nature of this conversation. “Did Alex get hurt?”  
     “Scott, Alex is,” Hank couldn't finish that sentence. He tried again. “When he tried to stop them from taking Charles,” Hank took a breath, tried to steady his voice, “he was killed. I'm so sorry, Scott.”  
     “No.” Scott shook his head. “No,” he repeated.  
     “Scott,” Hank put his hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott shook it off.  
     “No,” he said again. “Alex isn't... I need to see him. Take me to him.”  
     “That's maybe not the best idea.” Alex's blood was still on the basement floor. Scott did not need to see that. Hank did not want to see that again.   
     “I have to see him.” Scott plead.   
     “Take him down there.” Peter was standing in front of an open pantry, apparently looking for a snack. Hank glared at him. This was supposed to be a private conversation. Peter had no business interfering.   
     “Please.” Scott gripped Hank's hand. “I need to see him.”  
     “Alright.” This was a terrible idea.  
     There wasn't any blood on the floor. In the infirmary, a sheet had been wrapped around Alex's body, covering the obvious wounds. It didn't look nearly as bad as Hank remembered. It was still hard to look at. Scott sat in a chair next to the infirmary cot and cried. Hank awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. It wasn't adequate, but there wasn't much else Hank could do.  
     “Can you...can you give me a minute alone?” Scott's voice shook. Hank nodded, and stepped outside the door.   
     “He doing okay?” Peter was sitting at the top of the stairs eating an apple.  
     “Not really.” Hank sighed. He handling this particularly well, either. Alex had probably been his closest friend for a long time. “Did you clean the floor?”  
     “Yeah. I figured the kid would want to see his brother. Hard enough without blood everywhere.” Peter shrugged.   
     “Thank you.” As bad as it was without the mess, it would have been so much worse with it. “How did you know he'd want to see?”  
     “Someone you love dies, you're gonna want to say goodbye. Human nature.” Peter tossed Hank the rest apple. By the time Hank caught it, he was gone.


	17. Chapter 16

     Three adults sat in chairs in the Professor's office; their science teacher, a CIA agent, and the professor's sister. Four teenagers had found other, more comfortable perches. Scott kept pushing his glasses up to wipe at his eyes. Jean had her arm over his shoulder. Jubilation wanted to say something to him, to offer him some comfort, but her mind was coming up empty. She'd stood there, shocked, when Dr. McCoy had broken the news of Mr. Summer's death. She hadn't really known him, had never taken one of his classes. Jean had said he was a pretty good teacher, sympathetic and patient. She'd never find out now. It was selfish to think of it that way, when Scott had just lost his brother. Jean was much better at comforting people than Jubilation.  
     It felt like everything had changed in the few hours they'd spent at the mall. Obviously, some things had already started far before they'd left, and nothing would have changed if they'd stayed on campus. But it felt wrong that the Professor had been kidnapped while they'd been arguing about which of the three Star Wars films was the best. And if she was blaming herself, how awful must Scott feel.  
     “That basically covers what happened here.” The Professor's sister – Mystique of Nixon saving fame, which, whoa – finished her summary of what the adults knew. She looked over at Jean. “You said my brother spoke to you?”  
     “Yes, while this En Sabah Nur guy was talking to everyone else.” Jean nodded. “He said that En Sabah Nur was going to take his powers somehow unless we came to rescue him.”  
     “Is that something he can do?” Dr. McCoy asked.  
     “Definitely.” Agent MacTaggert answered. “Stealing the powers of other mutants is one of the very few characteristics of En Sabah Nur that shows up in every reputable source we were able to find on him.”  
     “Right. So we have to go after him.” Scott had pushed his glasses back into place. Even without seeing his eyes, Jubilation thought he looked determined.  
     “Not you four.” Dr. McCoy looked at each of them. “With Charles gone, I'm in charge of this school. I can't put students in danger.”  
     “We are already in danger,” said Kurt. Dr. McCoy frowned at that, but didn't answer him. Instead he addressed Mystique.  
     “When was the last time you piloted a plane? The flight to Afghanistan is too long for me to fly the whole time.”  
     “I've flown before.” Scott interjected. “My dad used to take me flying on weekends. Just small planes.”  
     “That's more flight experience than I've had in fifteen years.” Mystique pointedly looked at Dr. McCoy.  
     “Scott, you can't go,” Dr. McCoy started. Scott interrupted him.  
     “They killed my brother. I have to go fight them.” He protested. Dr. McCoy shook his head. Scott's argument, while strong in emotional appeal was lacking in logic. Jubilation decided it was time to step in.  
     “No offense, but the three of you weren't enough to stop them from taking the Professor before. Are you going to take the rest of the teachers?” Jubilation didn't think most of the teachers were fighters. Mr. Summers had been a veteran, and Ms. Blaire had stopped the occasional mugging, but as far as she knew, that was it. Unless the Professor had secretly collected a fighting force, the teachers weren't going to be much help. “Jean is a powerful psychic. I've heard the Professor say she might be more powerful than him. Scott's eyebeam thingy is seems to be at least as powerful as Mr. Summers' disks were. That's two strong ranged attacks you don't have if you leave them here. Kurt teleports, which I would think makes him a prime candidate for actual Professor rescuing. I'm not much more useful than a signal flare, but people carry those for reasons. And frankly, Dr. McCoy, I don't think I'll be safe if we can't get him back, so I'd rather risk my life trying to do something.”  
     Jubilation looked around nervously. Jean and Kurt were nodding along. She was glad they didn't object to being volunteered. Dr. McCoy seemed to be trying to come up with a counter to her argument. He wouldn't be able to find one. Jubilation knew she was right. If they survived this, Jean was probably going to try to recruit her for the debate team.  
     “She's right.” Mystique agreed. “The world won't be safe if we lose. And they aren't any younger than we were in Cuba, Hank.”  
     “It's good that you want to protect us, Dr. McCoy, but you really can't right now.” Jean pointed out.  
     “Fine.” Dr. McCoy threw up his hands in defeat. “The plane can fit eight people. It will just be a little cramped.”  
     “Actually,” Agent MacTaggert spoke up, “I think I could be of more use staying here. My combat skills are a little rusty, and I don't think a gun will do much against those mutants. I can get in touch with my bosses at Langley, keep them in the loop and maybe even set up a back up plan if your team doesn't succeed.”  
     “We won't exactly have a phone on the plane.” Mystique looked at Jean thoughtfully. “Jean, would you be able to keep in touch with Agent MacTaggert psychically?”  
“Maybe. It's pretty far, and I don't know her mind that well.” Jean considered. “I could probably send her information, but I doubt I could get anything from her.”  
     “It's better than nothing.”  
     It was better than nothing, but Jubilation thought she might be able to beat that.  
      _Psst, Jean, how many fingers am I holding up?_ Jubilation pictured three fingers, but carefully kept both of her hands on the ground.  
     “Three.” Jean turned to Jubilation, realization spreading over her face. Everyone else turned to Jean.  
      _We talk this way all the time._ Jubilation pointed out. _Even when we're not in the same place._  
      _Afghanistan is much farther from here than Los Angeles,_ Jean sent at her. _And we've never tried it even that far._ Jubilation knew that.  
     “Three what?” Scott asked.  
      _You're more likely to hear me than the CIA._ Jubilation shrugged. “The number of fingers I wasn't holding up.”  
     “You two have a psychic link?” Agent MacTaggert asked.  
     “Is a psychic link an actual thing?” Jubilation had never heard of such a thing and her best friend was a telepath. “We just practice a lot. Trying to save on the long distance bill during school vacations.”  
     “Does it save on the studying, too?”  
     “Dr. McCoy! I can't believe you would think I'd use my best friend to cheat on a test!” Even if she'd wanted to, she doubted Jean would have gone for it. And without Jean's cooperation, it wouldn't work.  
     “Are you guys ready to go yet?” Peter, the final adult of their group was back in the room. He was fast. “I've read your plane's flight manual like, six times now. It's fueled up, pre-flights been done, though whoever's flying probably ought to do it again. I packed some food and extra first aid kits, too.”  
     He'd been in the room with them while Mystique had caught them up on the Professor's abduction. He was really fast.  
     “We're ready.” Dr. McCoy glanced at Mystique, who nodded. Jubilation didn't think she was really ready, but putting it off was only going to make it more difficult.

***********************************************************************************

     Six people in the Blackbird was not as cramped as Hank had feared. He put Scott in the front with him, to go over the controls and keep on eye on how he was doing. It wasn't great, but under the circumstances it was passable.  
     “Which one killed him?” Scott interrupted Hank's explanation of the various warning lights. They weren't likely to need the one about low fuel supply anyway.  
     “Psylocke. The Asian woman. She used some sort of energy whip. It killed him instantly.” Hopefully knowing, or at least believing, his brother hadn't suffered would help. Scott looked over at their map, comparing their vector to the planned route.  
     “It's just...” Scott paused. “It's not fair.”  
     “Life isn't.” Hank had learned that lesson well before sixteen, but it still struck him from time to time. “Alex once told me that it was better that life wasn't fair, because if it were that meant we somehow deserved all the bad stuff that happened to us.”  
     “He told me that, too. But, uh,” Scott hesitated. “He didn't say 'stuff.'”  
     “No, he didn't say 'stuff' to me, either.” Hank huffed a small laugh. “Even before he went into the army Alex wasn't the most delicate guy when it came to language. I think he even managed to shock Raven at first.”  
     “Yeah, my mom was not happy about that when he first started coming over.” Scott's face had a weird expression, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. It was hard, sometimes, recalling happy memories when you think you should feel sad. “She thought he might be a bad influence, turn me into a behavior problem.”  
     “I usually thought of him as a good influence, his tendency to swear aside.” Hank managed a smile. Scott looked down to consult the maps again.  
     “It should have been me.” He said it quietly, speaking more to himself than to Hank. If Hank hadn't been listening for something along those lines he might not have heard.  
     “Why do you say that?” He tried to coax Scott to say more.  
     “Alex really had his life together. He was smart and cool and a great brother. He deserved to live.”  
     “He did.” Hank agreed. Alex had certainly deserved to live. “But everything you just said about him, he said about you, too.”  
     “What do you mean?” Hank paused for a minuted to collect his thoughts.  
     “So, I've known Alex since we were about your age. He was probably my best friend. When he first found out about you, he wasn't sure if he should get in touch or not. He didn't know if your father would want him back in his life, or in yours. He worried he had screwed up too badly to be family again. Once he met you, he talked about you all the time.”  
     “Really?” Scott sounded hopeful.  
     “Really.” Hank nodded. “He thought that you were smarter than he was at your age. Kinder and more forgiving of people. Definitely more mature than he was. I think he was right about that last one. The others? I don't know you well enough to judge, but I knew Alex. If there had been a choice, he would have picked you to survive.”  
     “Maybe.” Scott was still a little doubtful.  
     “More importantly, it wasn't an either/or situation. If you had been on campus, you still wouldn't have been in Cerebro with us. You couldn't have stopped him from charging into danger. That was just how Alex reacted to danger.”  
     “Running at it without a second thought?” Hank couldn't read Scott's expressions very well with the red glasses, but his tone sounded a little bitter.  
     “Trying to protect the people he cared about.” He corrected. “En Sabah Nur was only interested in bringing Xavier with him, but if he'd wanted to, I have no doubt he could have had all of us killed then. Alex saw that Charles was in danger, that Moira, Raven and I were in danger, and he did the best he could to help us.”  
     “Why do you keep calling Mystique Raven?” Talking about Alex was hard. Scott probably wanted to change the subject.  
     “Raven is her given name. When I first met her, she still used it.” She still let Charles use it, but that was a family thing. Hank knew he needed to make a better effort at remembering.  
     “Where'd she get the name Mystique?” The curiosity in Scott's voice was a good thing. It would be dangerous for him to go into a fight if he were focused on feeling guilty about Alex.  
     “Well, did Alex ever tell you about his teenage years?” Hank smiled thinking about the memories.  
     “You mean when he was in jail?” Scott asked, puzzled. It was Hank's turn to be surprised.  
     “I meant after. He told you about jail?” Alex didn't usually talk about what had landed him in prison. Or about what being in prison was like.  
     “Not much. He wanted to make me feel better about not controlling my powers.” That made some sense.  
     “Professor Xavier got Alex out of prison to work with us. He and I were among his first students. So was Mystique. And we were very much teenagers.”  
     “No offense, but it's hard to picture you as a teenager.” Scott sounded skeptical. One way that Hank had known he wasn't the awkward teenager anymore was how hard the actual teenagers found thinking of him as anything but old.  
     “None taken.” Being an adult was much better than being a teenager. “But one night we started talking about having code names to go with our mutations. Raven was given the name Mystique. I guess she started preferring it at some point. We called Alex, Havok.”  
     “Havok is a good choice for Alex.” Scott was smiling, which was nice. “What was your code name?”  
     “It was Beast.” Hank tried to keep his face in a neutral expression, but he failed. He'd never been fond of it. “Alex suggested it for me.”  
     “Was it an ironic nickname?” Alex had intended it as such. They hadn't really been friends at that point.  
     “Not entirely.” Scott would find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given the date, Alex could not have gotten his observation about the upside of an unfair world from Babylon 5. He must have come to that conclusion on his own.


	18. Chapter 17

     “Are you scared?” Jean asked Mystique. Mystique did not look scared, she looked very calm. Jean had felt brave when she'd heard the Professor's message, but that feeling had been fading the longer they sat on the airplane. Four of them in the back, separated a little from Scott and Dr. McCoy. Jean was edging towards terrified.  
     “No.” Mystique's tone was dismissive. Of course she wasn't scared.  
     “I'm scared.” Kurt offered. Jean smiled at him. “It is a scary thing, I think, to risk your life.”  
     “When I was about your age, I was on a plane like this, with some of my friends.” Mystique spoke slowly. Jean could practically hear her considering her words. “There was a man, a mutant, who wanted to remake the world. Destroy it, really, because he thought he'd be able to rule it. We were the only ones who had a chance of stopping him. I was scared then. Not of dying; when I was your age, I half believed that I was immortal.” She laughed a little at herself. “I was scared for my friends. I was scared of screwing up. I was scared that we would fail, and that there would be nuclear war. That fear, it wasn't a bad thing. Fear can motivate you to try harder, to stretch yourself just a little more. Fear is only a bad thing when it prevents you from acting.”  
     “Were you afraid when you saved Nixon?” Jean asked. She could remember her mom rushing into the living room and turning the television on to see Magneto. She didn't remember the content of his speech, but she remembered his anger. And she remembered Mystique, though she hadn't known her name than, standing up to him.

     “I was more frightened of what would happen if I didn't.” Mystique answered. “I couldn't let Erik speak for all mutants. Not with an assassination. I'm not sure I really did much good, though, in the long run.”  
     “No, you were amazing.” Jean tried not to gush. “Seeing you on television changed my life.”  
     “Mine, too.” Kurt added. “I had never seen another person who was blue like me before.”  
     “I mean, having seen you,” Jean barely managed to avoid talking over Kurt. “Once my powers manifested, I read everything I could find that was written about you. Not that there was much. The Professor wouldn't tell us much either.”  
     “He wouldn't?”  
     “Not personal details. Just that you were one of the most amazing people he'd ever known.” Jean had pressed the Professor for details. He'd never once mentioned that the hero who'd given mutants a positive role model was his sister. It was probably about protecting her privacy.  
     “Did me being blue mean so much to you?” Mystique asked Kurt.  
     “It did.” Kurt shifted in his seat, a little embarrassed. “I do not remember my mother, but my father told me she was blue like me. And like you.”  
     Mystique looked away, almost like she was embarrassed. Jean was very tempted to read her mind, to see what she could be thinking about. The Professor would not approve.

***********************************************************************************

     “Sir, I have crucial information regarding the recent weapons launches.” Moira believed in opening with her strongest point.  
     “Two minutes.” Her boss was clearly feeling generous with her.  
     “Our nukes were launched by the mutant En Sabah Nur using a device that has since been destroyed to psychically control thousands of soldiers simultaneously. We don't have to worry about retaliation yet, as he did the same thing with the Soviet's nukes. His intention was to get rid of them, not to start a nuclear war. I've been told the missiles were all redirected away from their initial targets and out into space.” Space was a guess, but from the context of the message En Sabah Nur had delivered to the world's mutants it seemed a reasonable one. “Have you been able to confirm that?”  
     “Are you on a secured line?” Moira smiled grimly. Sometimes it paid to pretend to have more information than she did.  
     “I've been assured the line is secured.” She had been set up in Dr. Xavier's personal office. Allison Blaire, the acting head of the school, had told her that Dr. McCoy was an expert in technological security. That the line was likely untraceable had gone unsaid.  
     “Where are you getting your information?”  
     “En Sabah Nur is attempting to rebuild his empire. He is, at the moment, concerned only with mutants, as he believes only mutants are powerful enough to be worth his attention.” If she started telling her boss all the details, they'd be on the phone all night, and there was a good chance he'd end up hanging up. “You should ask any of the mutants on staff to confirm the details of the message he sent them. I'll hold.”  
     “You know damn well we don't have any mutants here, Moira.” She was pretty sure that wasn't true, but perhaps her boss didn't know of any. There wasn't an official policy of not hiring mutants, but not all policies were official. Most people knew what not to talk about if they didn't want to end up in low status departments with no hope for promotion.  
     “Then you're going to have to take me at my word.” It wouldn't play as well up the ladder, but her boss trusted her. “There's a group of mutants that believe they can take down En Sabah Nur before he makes his next move. They could use our support.”  
     “Are you talking about a mutant militia group?” There was concern in her boss' voice. In other circumstances, she'd be right there with him. At the moment, however, there were bigger problems.  
     “With all due respect, Sir, that would be a matter for the FBI. We have no jurisdiction on any organization inside the United States.” Like hell her boss would share information with the FBI. He still thought of them as Hoover's boys, and he'd hated Hoover.  
     “Right. But honestly, Moira, they would be better off passing their information to us. If this En Sabah Nur tried to destroy all of the nukes, it's because they're a threat to him. He's damaged our capabilities, but we still have almost two thirds of our missiles available. In a couple of hours, they'll be ready to launch. If your mutants can tell us where he's located-”  
     “Afghanistan.” Moira interrupted. “Do we think En Sabah Nur was able to destroy a higher percentage of the Soviet's missiles?  
     “Fuck.” If the Soviets were in a similar position then by the time the US could launch at any target in Afghanistan they'd be primed to retaliate. Unless En Sabah Nur had completely devastated Soviet's nuclear arsenal they couldn't risk a strike that close to Russian interests.  
     “I was briefly in the presence of En Sabah Nur and his followers. My side arm was useless. Magneto is with him, so I don't think anything NATO's got is going to be much more useful, even if the Soviets didn't shoot them down before they made it into Warsaw Pact airspace.”  
     “What sort of support does your militia group need? No guarantee I'll be able to get it, mind.” Moira let out a sigh of relief.  
     “Any information we have on Soviet bases in Afghanistan. And not to have anyone shoot down their plane. I'd also like official permission to share the intelligence I've gathered on En Sabah Nur with them.” Not that she hadn't already shared it, but permission would better cover her ass in the aftermath.  
     “En Sabah Nur was yours. Share that information at your own discretion. I'll see what I can do about the rest.” Her boss hesitated a moment. “Can you give me a number you can be reached at?”  
     “Let me check.” She covered the receiver with her hand. “Jubilation?” The teenager sat up straighter on the couch where she'd been lounging. “Can I give this phone number out? And what is it?”  
     “Uh, yeah,” Jubilation grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and scribbled a number down on it. “This number redirects to the Professor's office. He gives it to parents.”  
     Moira read the number off to her boss. It wasn't a New York area code. She felt a new respect for Dr. Xavier's paranoia. Or possibly it was Dr. McCoy's. This was agency levels of precaution. Once this was all over she'd have to see if they could borrow McCoy to train some of their lab guys. Her boss promised to call back when he knew more. Moira hung up the phone.  
     “Still in contact?” She asked Jubilation. The girl made a face.  
     “Mystique is amazing, Peter is terrible at sitting still and Kurt might be an actual saint.” Jubilation relayed the communication from her friend. “So yeah, still in contact. Do you think they'll help out?”  
     Moira weighed the importance of adult reassurance against honesty. “I hope so.”

***********************************************************************************

     It started with a pain in his back. At first Hank was willing to dismiss it as sitting in the same place for the last two hours, before he remembered the time of his last dose. He was due for another shot if he wanted to maintain his appearance, but he didn't have any more of his medication. He hadn't had time to make a new dosage before they'd had to leave.  
     “Ra-Mystique,” Hank corrected himself. “Could you take the controls for a bit?”  
     “I can handle it.” Scott protested. It was possible. There wasn't likely to be any traffic on their route. There definitely weren't going to be any mountains or other obstacles if Scott just maintained altitude. Still, Scott had never flown a plane like this before.  
     “There really ought to be at least two people at the controls at any time.” Basic safety rules required a second pair of eyes.  
     “You fly, I'll back you up.” Mystique offered. Hopefully, that would salve any ego issues Scott had. He stood and Mystique moved up to the front of the plane, taking his seat. She strapped herself in and did a quick, automatic check of her instrument panel. It was comforting to see that she still seemed to know her way around a cockpit. Hank didn't immediately go to her seat, however. He needed to say something first.  
     “So, um, just to warn you all, I'm going to get, um,” Hank almost said ugly, but thought better of it. Kurt was looking right at him. “Fuzzy. And Blue.”  
     “Fuzzy and blue?” Jean arched an eyebrow questioningly. Mystique was the only one who'd seen him looking like, well, like a beast.  
     “Yes.” Frankness was important here. “Usually I take medication that keeps me looking,” _don't say normal_ , “like this. “  
     “Is that how you got the nickname Beast?” Scott's voice called back.  
     “No, actually. The name came earlier.” Hank tried to think of the best way to explain it. “The blue, fuzzy thing is not from my mutation. It was caused by a lab accident. Alex had been calling me Beast for months by then.”  
     “So is this like _An American Werewolf in London_?” Peter asked. “You're going to become a mindless killer?”  
     “No, nothing like that.” Hank was clearly explaining it wrong. “I'll still be me, just fuzzy.”  
     “And blue?” Kurt questioned.  
     “Yeah.” Hank felt another twinge. “Um, I'm not sure exactly when it will-”  
     Another twinge, followed immediately by much more serious pain. Hank dropped to his knees and curled up into a tight ball. Pain wracked his body, along with an intense itch. He could feel his body reshaping itself. His feet curled up in shoes that were suddenly too small for them. His shirt stretched tight around his new, larger muscles. Fortunately, he wasn't much bigger than he usually was. His clothes still mostly fit. Hank relaxed as the pain ebbed. It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. He stood up and moved to the seat Mystique had vacated a few minutes earlier. As he strapped himself in, he kicked off his now ill-fitting shoes.  
     “Are you alright, Hank?” Mystique asked from the cockpit.  
     “Yes, I seem to be.” Hank did a quick self assessment. Big feet, extra muscles, bigger teeth, lots of extra hair. Still blue.  
     “Dude,” Peter was staring, eyes ranging up and down. “You said blue and fuzzy. You didn't say you'd be hot.”  
     “What?” That was not a reaction Hank had ever had before. Screams were more typical.  
     “I'm not saying I'd have kicked you out of bed before. Just, man, if I saw you out, at like Saint Marks or someplace like that, you'd totally be the first guy I'd approach.” Peter was checking him out. Which was definitely a new experience for Hank. When he'd been blue he'd mostly avoided going out in public, but the few times he had there had been stares. None of them had been of the appreciative variety.  
     “Thanks?” He had no idea what the appropriate response was. It wasn't that no one ever found Hank attractive, but people didn't just say things like that to him. Not when he'd looked like everyone's nerdy science teacher and certainly not once he'd been blue. Jean and Kurt laughed at him, covering their mouths with their hands.  
     “Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” Peter took the tape out of his Walkman and flipped it over. He ducked his head fiddled with the volume control, but Hank could see his grin. Peter had probably just been teasing him.  
     “No, it's,” Hank didn't want to say fine, exactly, but he didn't have a good word. “It's flattering.”  
     Flattering was probably a good word to use. Peter rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to his Walkman. Jean and Kurt kept looking at each other and stifling giggles. Hank tried to muster a stern expression that didn't look too monstrous. The fangs made it difficult.  
     “So, that is not your mutation?” Kurt had managed to stop laughing. “Do you mind telling us what is?”  
     “Well, actually, it's my feet.” Hank stuck his feet forward. “They looked basically like this, only a bit less hairy. And much less blue.”  
     “Just your feet?” Kurt seemed surprised.  
     “Well, I'm stronger and faster than most people, but that not really visible.” Hank usually didn't talk about this part. “When I was born I had a vestigial tail, too, but it was surgically removed when I was a kid. My parents wanted to have my feet corrected too, but it likely would have crippled me.”  
     “Your parents did that to you?” Kurt sounded horrified. His tail twitched, and he curled it towards himself protectively. Hank didn't blame him. Jean looked sympathetic. He hadn't met her parents personally, but he'd heard some things about them from Charles. She would understand. Kurt shook his head. “Parents are supposed to protect you, not hurt you.”  
     “They thought there was something wrong with him, so they tried to have him fixed.” Peter shrugged. That seemed like a harsh way of putting it to Hank, but it was essentially correct. “There just wasn't anything wrong with him.”  
     “It was a different time.” When he was younger, he had been grateful to his parents, and had often wished they'd been able to fix his feet for him. Now though, he was less certain. He didn't think of his mutation as a key part of who he was, but it didn't cause him the shame it once had.


	19. Chapter 18

     After a while, Scott began to doze off in his seat. Mystique sent him back into the passenger area to get some rest. He wouldn't be of any use to her as a co-pilot while half asleep and being well rested before facing Erik and his new boss (and wow did that sound weird) was important. The outcome of this battle would be too important to leave the children at home, but she wasn't going to tell Charles that she'd gotten his students killed by letting them go into combat exhausted. Hank sighed as he sank down into the seat next to her.  
     “I think I might have to murder Peter.” Not Hank's usual conversational gambit.  
     “Does he keep flirting with you?” She hadn't been paying attention to the conversation behind her, but she'd heard Peter's reaction to Hank's transformation. Her perspective was a little different but she didn't think it was the blue fur that made Hank unattractive.  
     “No, he's not flirting.” Hank frowned. “He just keeps talking. And apparently he doesn't really sleep like the rest of us. I know the kids need to get as much rest as they can, so I've been trying to keep his focus on me.”  
     “He's really fast.” Understatement. “That will definitely be useful when we have to fight. If he'd been there when Erik showed up, we probably wouldn't have lost Charles.”  
     “Kurt can teleport. He should be able to do everything Peter can.” Hank yawned “Sorry, just as fascinating as he is, he is also very tiring.”  
     “You're almost as sleepy as Scott was.” Mystique complained. There wasn't much point to having a co-pilot who wasn't awake. “You should go nap with the kids. Send Peter up here.”  
     “Peter's not a pilot.” Hank pointed out.  
     “But he is awake.” She countered. “I'll fly the plane, he'll keep an eye out for any sudden obstructions I miss. You can take over in a few hours so I can sleep.”  
     “Thanks, Mystique.” Hank slipped back into the rear of the plane. She was glad he was making an effort with her name.  
     “So, I guess I'm allowed to keep you awake.” Peter was seated next to her, seatbelt on as though he had been there for hours. “Are you going to teach me how to fly the plane?”  
     “First you'd have to study the flight manual-”  
     “I read it. Like six times before we even took off. It's not that long a read. So this is what controls are speed?” Peter reached towards the throttle.  
     “Don't touch anything.” He smirked at her. If he'd wanted to adjust the throttle, or anything else in the cockpit she wouldn't be able to stop him. She wouldn't even be able to tell him to stop before he'd done it. Hank had been looking at Peter as an annoyance, if an interesting one. He might be overlooking a potential threat. “Are you doing that on purpose?”  
     “Uh, how do you mean?” Peter looked puzzled. “Everything I do is on purpose. I mean, I do act without thinking sometimes, but usually I notice in the middle and stop if there's a problem.”  
     Peter did not sound like the kind of person who would show off his speed as a threat. But he clearly thought at the same speed he moved. It wouldn't be hard for him to fake being dumb. Although she wasn't entirely sure what his motivation would be. Supposedly his goal was the same as theirs; rescue Charles.  
     “Why were you looking for my brother?” Very few people would jump out of a perfectly functional airplane to avoid answering questions. This was probably the closest she'd be able to get to having Peter cornered. Although Peter may have found the parachutes.  
     “I wanted to ask him some questions about Magneto. They seemed to know each other pretty well.” He started fiddling with his Walkman. Someone as fast as Peter wouldn't have the sort of tells normal people did. Any movement slow enough for her to notice had to be conscious on his part. “Did you know Magneto well?”  
     “Better than most people.” She conceded. “He was something of a mentor to me when I was a teenager. We ended up going our separate ways, though. He was more focused on vengeance against normal people.”  
     “Was he a good mentor?”  
     “I learned quite a bit from him.” There was more to it than that. “Growing up, I never doubted that my mutation was special. But the most important thing was to keep it hidden, keep it from frightening normal people. Erik taught me not to be concerned about scaring people just by being myself. That if they were frightened, it was their problem.”  
     “He's my father.” That was not something she'd expected to hear.  
     “You're sure?” She blurted out the question before she could think better of it.  
     “It's not nice to insult my mom like that without even having met her.” Peter eyed her coolly.  
     “You're right, I'm sorry.” Mystique apologized. “It's just, Erik as a father is hard to imagine. Even knowing he settled down in Poland.”  
     “Yeah, that's what my mom thought.” Peter slouched down in his seat as much as the seatbelt allowed. “She left him when she found out she was pregnant. She told me she was too scared of him to let him near a child.”  
     “That would have been in fifty-six, fifty-seven?” Peter nodded. “I met him in the early sixties. He was very angry all the time. Even when we would goof off and try to have fun, there was this undercurrent of anger in him. Your mother had good reason to be afraid of him.”  
     “I know. I did meet him, just the once. I didn't know he was my dad then, obviously. But he was pretty angry. Like, he'd been locked up for ten years without any sort of trial. Pretty good reason to be pissed. And my mom's not a mutant, she doesn't have any special powers. He could hurt her pretty badly if he wanted to.” Peter paused, looked at Mystique. That was probably her cue to assure Peter that Erik wouldn't have wanted to. She couldn't though. Erik did hurt people when he was angry. “I don't think there's much he can do to me though. So there's not much risk in looking for him.”  
     “Why are you looking for him?” She was curious about why some children wanted to find their missing parents and others wouldn't. If Kurt might want to know about her. “I mean, if he abandoned you-”  
     “He didn't abandon me. My mom left him.” Peter answered before she'd finished asking the question. “Anyway it's not about him. Not entirely. I'd been curious about him since my mom told me who my dad was, and right now I needed something to do.”  
     “You're looking for one of the most dangerous men on the planet because you're bored?” That strained credulity.  
     “Boredom is a frequent motivator for me. I have a lot of spare time.” Peter was looking away from her, down at his Walkman, which he was fiddling with again. Either he was telling the truth or he was determined not to. She wouldn't get anything from pursuing it further.

***********************************************************************************

     “What have you got for me, Sir?” Moira picked up the phone on the first ring, only considering that it might be a concerned parent after she spoke. She would have to ask Jubilation or Allison what to do in that case.  
     “Not much, I'm afraid.” It was her boss on the line. “I passed your report up the ladder, but I'm not in on the presidential briefings. I did get a report from Rains, though.”  
     “Rains?” Rains was a sexist jackass and a long time field agent based out of Berlin. He was also very good at finding out information people didn't want him to have “What has he got?”  
     “First, he was able to confirm the content of En Sabah Nur's message to mutants. The nukes were sent into space, and En Sabah Nur is trying recruit mutants to serve him.” Moira bit her tongue to keep herself from asking how he was able to confirm this. She was fairly certain that Rains was a mutant himself, able to become invisible at will. She'd figured he'd picked his code name as a joke.  
     “And second?” She asked.  
     “He found Magneto. At least where Magneto was for the last few years.” Her boss filled her in on Magneto's house, the dead soldiers, the dead wife and daughter.  
     “Stabbed with metal feathers?” That was surprising.  
     “That's what Rains reported. Sound familiar?” Her boss pressed.  
     “One of En Sabah Nur's followers has metal wings. If he can use the feathers to stab people, that's good to know.” She had to wonder if Magneto knew En Sabah Nur had killed his wife. “Is that it?”  
     “Not quite. Rains has a confidential informant with information on En Sabah Nur's followers.” Moira waited, but her boss didn't continue.  
     “What's the information?” Just because they had some time before her people would reach En Sabah Nur didn't mean she wanted to waste it pulling information out of her boss.  
     “This informant isn't agency vetted, he's a private asset of Rains. And Rains doesn't trust him.” Probably a criminal. Still, any information might prove critical.  
     “I'll pass on the appropriate grain of salt as well, Sir.”  
     “Right. The youngest is called Storm. She has some sort of control over wind. Given her name, he suspects she can summon rain, maybe lighting as well. Rains couldn't get much background on her. Just that she's a teenager and she's been living in Egypt for at least the last four years. The older woman is called Psylocke. Her real name is Elizabeth Braddock. She's an American ex-pat. Been living abroad since her teenage years. She's got some fighting skills; she worked as a bodyguard for the last year or so, some of that time for Rains' source.”  
     “He should know all about her, then.”  
     “He claims to. Says she uses a physical sword and an energy whip, one in each hand. She can use her mutation to make a sword as well as a whip, though. She tends to fight with two weapons at once, regardless of the second one.”  
     “That's unusual. Is it effective?”  
     “Very, according to Rains' source. We don't have confirmation on the identity of the fourth follower of En Sabah Nur. Based on the wings, though, we think it might be a mutant called Angel. He was a fighter in an underground club in Berlin. Rains said he mostly won his fights by being a vicious mother fucker and taking a lot of punishment.”  
     “Rains saw him fight?” Rains was exactly the type to hang out at such a club.  
     “He did. But we don't know for sure if that's the guy.” Her boss sounded frustrated. “We don't have a good plan to handle this situation, Moira. I hope your mutants can stop him.”  
     “Me too, Sir.” She hung up the phone. “Jubilation?”  
     “Hmm?” The girl had been asleep on the couch.  
     “If you can reach Jean, I need you to send her some information.” She summed up her phone call with her boss. “You get all that?”  
     “Yeah. And so did Jean.” That was surprisingly fast. Moira had been thinking about the communication between the two girls as a relay, like Jubilation had to repeat everything a second time. Psychic connections did have some advantages.  
     “Jubilation, what do I need to do once parents start calling?” Now that the information had been passed on, she could address that concern.  
     “Ms. Blaire or I can get the kids and have them talk to their parents. I don't think we'll get a lot of calls, though.” Jubilation curled back up on the sofa.  
     “What do you mean?” Moira frowned. Now that she was thinking about it, it was odd the school hadn't been flooded with calls once people could see missiles in the sky.  
     “This is a school for mutants.” Jubilation said flatly. Moira caught her meaning. She didn't like it. 

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     En Sabah Nur took a moment to bask in the warm sunlight. His temple was complete. The tanks Magneto had so easily destroyed had been shaped into a new conduit that now rested on its peak. The steel was not as visually impressive as gold, but it was equally functional. Once the world was his, he would have a proper temple built, with a more fitting conduit for his next transfer. For now, it would have to do.  
     “My children,” En Sabah Nur paused to look at each of his followers in turn. Magneto still bristled at the title, but did not outwardly object. Storm and Angel liked being addressed that way. Psylocke was her own creature, but took the words as intended. “While I perform the ritual transfer, I will be vulnerable to attack. If the weaklings who have been ruling for so long wish to fight for their continued existence, this is when they will attack. Storm will need to keep the sky clear and the air still.” She nodded, already aware of her assignment. “It is vital that she not be interrupted. Psylocke, you must make certain of this.”  
     “Got it.” Psylocke shifted her weight positioning herself slightly closer to Storm.  
     “Magneto, I expect that some who come to stop me will come in planes or tanks. Some may try to fire the few missiles I did not already destroy. You are in charge of dismantling any of those that are near enough that you deem them a threat.”  
     “They are all threats.” Magneto snarled. En Sabah Nur smiled slightly.  
     “They will not remain so. Prioritize the most dangerous. Use your judgment.” He did not like leaving such things to the judgment of others, but here he had no other option. Magneto, at least, was unlikely to underestimate the dangers mere humans could pose. “My Angel.”  
     “Yes, my Lord?” Angel dropped to his knees. Truly, none of his other servants understood proper deference the way his Angel did. En Sabah Nur stepped closer to him, and lay his hand on the boy's head. His finger traced down the Angel's cheek. He lifted the boy's chin until the Angel was looking up into his eyes.  
     “You are to be my final line of defense. If my enemies breach the temple, kill them.”

***********************************************************************************

     Mystique knew they were getting close when their instruments started to go haywire. It probably wasn't on purpose. If Erik knew they were coming he'd much more likely be tearing their plane to pieces. There was no way he'd just let them fly right in. Mystique couldn't imagine what Erik was using his powers for at the moment, but it wouldn't be anything good for them  
     “Hank, I need you up here.” She was capable of flying the Blackbird under better conditions, but without instruments they needed their best pilot.  
     “What's the problem?” Hank took Peter's place in the seat next to her.  
     “Erik's fucking up our instruments.” He frowned down at the console.  
     “Oh, right, um sorry about this.” Hank stood up and leaned over the panel between them. His hand brushed her thigh as he reached under the paneling in front of her. “That should fix it.”  
     “What did you do?” All of the readings were back to about where she would expect them to be.  
     “Given the number of times Erik's tried to kill me, I wasn't going to design a plane that was easy for him to bring down.” Hank smiled at her. “That being said, it's still made of metal. And untested against Erik consciously working to bring it down.”  
     “Right, so we'll need to land a bit away from everything.” Mystique wasn't sure how close Erik had to be to mess with compass readings. “Maybe Jean can give us a better idea exactly where they are.”  
     “I don't think we're going to need her for that.” In the distance a pyramid was visible, sunlight glinting off it's metallic silver point.  
     “I'll try to find a reasonable landing spot. Let the team know it's go time.”


	20. Chapter 19

     “Magneto is off by himself. There are many bits of metal around him. A shield, perhaps. Storm and Psylocke are near the pyramid. The others must be inside it.” Once they landed, Kurt had scouted out the area around En Sabah Nur's temple. It was about what they'd expected.  
     “Psylocke is mine.” She'd killed his brother. He had to fight her, beat her. Kill her, probably. Scott had never killed anyone before. But Alex had, when he'd been a soldier. And he owed it to Alex to be just as strong.  
     “I'm going with you.” Jean volunteered. “You can't take both of them alone.”  
     “I want to try to talk to Erik first.” If Mystique could talk Magneto around, he'd be a powerful ally.   
     “I'll get you to him.” Peter positioned himself behind Mystique, supporting her head with his hand. Then they were both gone.   
     “I'll help the Kurt with whatever he finds in the pyramid.” Dr. McCoy was frowning. He clearly did not like the way this was shaking out, with insufficient protection for his students. “Kurt, can you take us all in?”  
     “Of course. You will have to all be touching me, though.” They each placed a hand on Kurt and were suddenly in the shadow of the pyramid, about forty feet behind the women they were supposed to fight. Scott and Jean took their hands off of Kurt. There was a sound as Kurt and Dr. McCoy vanished. Psylocke must have heard it too, as she turned and saw them. The fight was on.  
     Scott pulled his glasses from his face, tried to keep his eyes on Psylocke, but he'd lowered his head when he took off his glasses and he only tore up the ground. He closed his eyes and dodged blindly, shoving his glasses back into place. Scott looked around quickly, found Psylocke and tugged off his glasses again. Again, removing his glasses caused him to turn his head slightly and again he misses. At least she had to dodge the flying rocks.  
      _Scott!_ Jean's voice screamed in his head. _Leave the glasses off. I can help you aim._  
     He clutched his glasses in his hand, closed his eyes and waited for Jean's direction.

***********************************************************************************

     Kurt flitted down the hallways of the pyramid, pausing only long enough to get his bearings. It was dark inside, dark enough that it shortened the distance he could teleport by quite a bit. It took several jumps to find light, a golden glow that was quite unlike sunlight. He teleported to it, dragging Dr. McCoy along with him. It took them to a large room, whose ceiling seemed to stretch up to the top of the pyramid. At its center were two raised platforms, the Professor lay on one, what had to be En Sabah Nur lay on the other. This was where they needed to be.  
     A heavy force barreled into him and Kurt teleported automatically. He was being held, a hand grasped painfully tight on his tail while a fist punched him repeatedly. Kurt kept teleporting, trying to shake off the unseen attacker. With such a firm grip on his tail, however, he was only dragging his enemy along with them.  
     “Kurt, stop a second.” Dr. McCoy's voice sounded far away and Kurt realized he must have left the man behind. He froze, allowing his enemy to tug him closer and begin truly pummeling him. Kurt tried to curl into a ball, protecting the soft tissue of his stomach. There was a sound of flesh striking flesh and a sudden absence of violence.   
     Dr. McCoy had launched himself at their attacker, knocking the Angel off of Kurt. Now the two of them were scrapping in the narrow hallway. The match was not even, by any measure. However the cramped space of the hallway kept the Angel from fully extending his wings. His flight wouldn't be able to help him.  
     “Get the Professor, Kurt.” Dr. McCoy called to him. Even in the cramped space, he wouldn't be able to hold the Angel off indefinitely. Kurt nodded, though he did not think Dr. McCoy could see him, and raced back to the center room.

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     When Kurt left, the Angel tried to dodge around Hank. Hank grabbed a handful of wing, tugging the other man back. He had to buy Kurt enough time to get to Charles. His only chance was to keep the better fighter in the enclosed space. The Angel wrenched his wing out of Hank's grasp and started running down the hall. Hank took off after him. He may not be as good at grappling, but he was just as fast. Rounding a corner, Hank used the wall to launch himself again at the fleeing figure, tackling him to the ground. He could hear the sound that accompanied Kurt's teleportation echoing in the pyramid. Hopefully he wouldn't have to keep this up for too much longer. 

***********************************************************************************

      _Behind you!_ Scott spun around and opened his eyes. He caught a glimpse of blurred motion as Psylocke again dodged out of his way. Jean's guidance was better than him trying to compensate for the difficulty of removing his glasses. The way they stuck solidly to his face was great for real life, but it made them a hazard for combat.  
      _Thirty degrees to your right._ Again Scott turned. This time he missed because Psylocke was mid-strike with her whip of pure psychic energy and Scott had to roll away. There was something about the way she was fighting him, like she was luring him somewhere. Or possibly away from somewhere.  
     “Jean,” Scott started to ask his question aloud, then thought better of it, instead saying, “read my mind.”  
      _Where's Storm?_ He focused on the question as strongly as he could while still making sure he was giving Psylocke a moving target.  
      _Still sitting by the pyramid._ Jean answered him. _She hasn't moved. She looks like she's meditating._  
      _I think Psylocke is trying to keep us away from her._ Scott shoved his glasses back on and looked around. His fight with Psylocke had taken both him and Jean away from the pyramid's base. He ran towards it, and Psylocke charged at him, sword and beam slicing through the air.   
      _Jean, you need to stop helping me and try to distract Storm from whatever she's doing._ If Storm wasn't fighting, she must be doing something more important. Scott ducked behind some rocks to gain himself some breathing room.  
      _But then you won't be able to see her_.  
      _I will if I don't keep closing my eyes. Can you block my beams with your telekinesis?_

**********************************************************************************

     The bits of scrap weren't just hanging around Magneto, they were swirling at a decent clip. Peter actually had to pay attention to avoid some of them. His running music wasn't much help. The magnetic field fucked with either the tape, or the Walkman itself, stretching out the music until it provided no timing at all. Hopefully it wasn't permanent damage. Peter was suddenly really glad he'd left his other tapes in his bag on the plane. This tape he could re-record. It wouldn't be quite the same, but it would have the same songs. Some of the weirder things Stevie had recorded for him were irreplaceable. He really didn't want to give up his Walkman either.  
     “If you broke my Walkman, you better be able to fix it.” Magneto looked down on them from where he was hovering slightly above the ground. His face was shifting to a look of surprise, probably because he'd thought the scrap metal would keep people away. Mystique's expression was moving towards surprise as well, away from the nauseated look most people got the first few times Peter dragged them along with him. Probably not his best opening line. Or maybe he'd been talking to fast. That could be really hard to tell. “Sorry, am I talking to fast? That happens sometimes.”  
     “Are you here to stop me?” Magneto was looking between Peter and Mystique. That was a dumb question, what else would they be doing there? Peter considered answering, saying they were in the area smuggling weapons to the Mujahideen when they had seen him hovering and thought they'd say hi. He decided to keep his mouth shut, though. Mystique knew Magneto way better than he did; she was a better choice to try and talk him out of destroying the world. And they'd have to talk him out of it. Whatever magnetic field he was generating at the moment keep them from getting any closer than they already were, taking the option of knocking Magneto out off the table.  
     “You don't have to do this,” Mystique started. Peter refrained from rolling his eyes. Obviously Magneto didn't have to do anything. If En Sabah Nur could control people like puppets he wouldn't have needed to abduct the Professor. Magneto was here doing whatever it was he was doing of his own free will. “Erik, I know it feels like you've lost everything-”  
     “Because I have lost everything.” Magneto paused, emphasizing the final word. “Again. Every time, Mystique, every time I try to live with them, every time I try to live my life in peace they find a way to take it away from me. I saved a man's life, and because of that my daughter was murdered in front of me.”  
     Magneto was yelling at them by the time he reached the word 'murdered.' Mystique didn't flinch away from the anger. Peter took his cue from her and tried maintain a calm demeanor. The intensity of Magneto's anger was impressive, but it was also fitting. His daughter had been murdered. Peter got it. Anger was sometimes the natural response. And Magneto's anger even had a natural direction. If Peter had had such an obvious target after...  
     “Your daughter was not the only family you had.” Peter tuned in to Mystique's words to distract himself from his own thoughts. “Charles-”  
     “Charles is only interested in crippling mutants to make us more palatable to humans.” Magneto's voice dripped with contempt. “Nothing he does, no matter how subservient he teaches his students to be, will ever keep them from fearing us. The only hope we have is to crush them first.”  
     “Is that what your daughter would have wanted you to do?” Mystique asked. Peter couldn't keep from rolling his eyes that time. Seriously stupid question.  
     “She's dead. She doesn't get a choice.” Magneto roared.   
     “That's not how it works.” Peter had been correcting Mystique, but Magneto was looking at him, too. Peter took a breath, tried to gauge his talking speed appropriately. “When someone you love dies, you don't base your actions on what they would have wanted you to do. He's right,” Peter pointed at Magneto, “once they're dead, they don't get to have a say anymore.”  
     “Peter-” Mystique tried to interrupt him, but he kept talking.  
     “But once they're dead, they don't change anymore at all. And you do, because just by living you're going to change. And every bit you change makes you that much more different from the person they loved. So what's most important is not doing anything to make yourself into someone you know they couldn't have loved.”  
     Peter had started talking faster as he went on. He wasn't sure they'd been able to understand everything he'd said. It probably didn't matter, though. Magneto was clearly too caught up in his own anger at his daughter's death to be convinced by words. It seemed odd to Peter, though, that he hadn't mentioned his wife. Maybe children were just that much more important than spouses, Peter didn't know. Hell, maybe Magneto had killed his own wife. Jean said she'd been stabbed with metal feathers, which made the obvious suspect the guy with the metal feathers, but maybe Magneto had been the one throwing them. His mom had warned him over and over again that Magneto was dangerous.  
     “Why are you here?” This time Magneto was talking to him. Peter almost told him, almost blurted out 'You're my father' but thought better of it. He wasn't sure he wanted Magneto to know.  
     “Staying they guy Stevie loved.” Which was a bit more personal then he'd really wanted to say, but it was true. Reckless behavior and spur of the moment decision making were what Stevie had fallen for. Magneto was paying attention to him now. If he could just say the right thing, they might have a chance at talking Magneto down. Peter glanced over at Mystique, hoping for a clue, but she wasn't offering any that Peter could see. “Besides, not all of my family are mutants. They wouldn't do so well in this new world.”  
     Magneto was frowning down at him. Thinking, probably. Peter tried not to fidget too much under his gaze; the way he moved tended to make people uncomfortable.   
     “If they aren't mutants, they aren't really your family.” Magneto said finally. “Even if they are related by blood.”  
     “Is that what happened with your wife?” Peter asked without thinking. Which was really, really dumb. Magneto had been listening to him, even if he wasn't showing any sign of changing his mind and not helping to destroy the world. And Peter had to go and bring up another loss.  
     “What do you mean?” Now Magneto sounded genuinely puzzled, which didn't make sense to Peter. Did the man not know his wife was dead?  
     “Was she a mutant, too? I thought she wasn't.” If Magneto didn't know she was dead, Peter was not going to bring it up. Hopefully Mystique would find a way to change the subject.  
     “She is...special.” Magneto paused to consider the word. “When Nina was killed, she understood what I needed to do.”  
     “She understood that you needed to kill the men who murdered your daughter.” Mystique took over the conversation and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Would she understand you needing to kill everyone else?” Mystique made eye contact with Peter, and gestured to him to come closer to her. “You do what you have to, Erik. I'm going to fight for the family I have left.”  
     Peter had never been a movie guy, but he recognized an exit line when he heard one.


	21. Chapter 20

     With Scott taking over against Psylocke, Jean was able to back away from the fight. Jean didn't think she'd be able to get close to Storm. If Scott was right, Psylocke wouldn't let her. Maybe she wouldn't need to. She couldn't walk in seamlessly into another person's mind like the Professor could, but if the other girl needed to concentrate she might be able to interrupt.  
     Jean reached out for a quick scan of Storm's mind. She didn't understand any of the words, but the images spoke of stillness. A calm, an absence of wind. A focus on that absence. Jean prodded, the mental equivalent of a shoulder tap. No change. Jean tried putting a little more force into her probe. From her position behind some rocks she could see Storm flinch and look around. Her concentration wavered and a breeze picked up. Quickly, though, the girl refocused and the breeze died.  
     Rocks flew and Jean had turn her attention away from Storm and protect herself. Scott's attacks weren't really causing any damage to Psylocke, but they were keeping her far enough away that her psychic whip and sword weren't able to hurt Scott, either. She seemed content to toy with him as well, as though delaying them was all she needed to do. Everything really was dependent on what happened with the Professor and En Sabah Nur.  
     Jean sat behind her telekinetic shield and considered. Distracting Storm was possible, but it took mental effort to get her attention. She couldn't maintain that focus consistently if she were going to have to protect herself from Scott and Psylocke. So, she needed to either find a safer location or come up with a distraction that was self sustaining. Jean smiled as her plan formed.  
     Once again she reached out to Storms mind. This time, instead of just a push Jean sang at the top of her mental voice: _She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene...._ She got as far as the chorus before she had to stop and shield herself from debris again. Billie Jean did not seem to be sticking. Maybe the Storm wasn't a Michael Jackson fan. Jean tried again: _Take your passion / And make it happen / Pictures come alive …_ What a Feeling didn't stick either. Storm didn't think in English, so she was almost certainly not American. It would make sense if American songs took a while to become hits in foreign countries. Jean began searching her memory for older popular songs.

***********************************************************************************

     Kurt had not wanted to leave Dr. McCoy alone, but he knew rescuing the Professor was more important. Either his eyes had adjusted to darkness, or the passageways were better lit than before because he had an easier time getting back to the central room of the pyramid. The golden glow which had previously been confined to the ceiling area had spread down the walls and over to the two platforms. The platforms themselves now seemed linked by rivulets of gold. Realizing there was no time to lose, Kurt grabbed the Professor and teleported away.  
     He hesitated a bit when he reached the part in the hallway where Dr. McCoy was still grappling with the Angel. They were slowly working their way closer to the exit. Kurt thought it might be possible to grab Dr. McCoy and take him along, but most likely he would be taking Angel along with them as well. Instead he teleported past them and outside and to their plane.  
     The Professor remained unconscious, so Kurt lay him down on floor between the seats. He found a blanket that could be used as a pillow and placed it under the man's head. Kurt found the first aid kits as well, but he couldn't see any injuries on the Professor and left them alone. With the Professor taken care of, Kurt returned to the battlefield to bring back their pilot.

***********************************************************************************

     Alone in his temple, En Sabah Nur opened his eyes.

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     Sun hit Hank's eyes and he knew he was in trouble. He hadn't been paying attention to where his struggle against the Angel was taking him. Whether by accident or clever design, they had mad there way to the pyramid's exit. Where the cramped and narrow hallways had given him the advantage, the open space now gave it to Angel. His opponent grinned and spread his wings before launching himself into the air. Hank rolled, trying to dodge, but was unsuccessful. Angel swooped down onto him, the added momentum enough to knock the air out of Hank's lungs. He forced himself to stretch out, regain some breath. Once he had his breath back, Hank tried to charge towards Angel, but Angel took off, dodging neatly into the air. Hank huffed and spun around, trying to keep the flying mutant in his sight. He wasn't sure he'd be able to win this fight. Hank glanced around quickly, looking for some help. Maybe Scott could target the Angel while he was in flight. A heavy wing struck Hank in the side of his face, knocking him down. He spat blood onto the ground and started to pick himself up. He was halfway there when he felt a rush of air around him, heard the sound that accompanied Kurt's teleportation, blinked twice and saw the rear interior of the Blackbird.  
     “Thanks.” Hank sank back down to his knees, next to an unconscious Charles.  
     “I will get the others.” Kurt was frowning at him. “Will you be able to fly?”  
     “I'll manage.” Hank's head was throbbing, but his vision was fine and they really needed to get out of there. “Get them on the plane.”

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     En Sabah Nur was not telepathic. Something had disrupted the ritual.

***********************************************************************************

     Scott closed his eyes, briefly, and brushed some dust off of his face. The fight was not going well. He was avoiding Psylocke's attacks, but actually hitting her seemed beyond him. Either she dodged his aim or he missed. He'd managed to do a lot of damage to the surrounding area, scattering rocks and dirt everywhere. Some of the rocks had struck Psylocke, but almost as many had hit Jean or him. He needed a better plan.  
     He heard a noise behind him and a few disorienting seconds later he was in the plane.

***********************************************************************************

     En Sabah Nur sat up, and looked to his left. He expected an alter with his former body on it. There was only empty space.

***********************************************************************************

     Jean kept running through her mental list of all of the music videos she had seen on MTV. Surely one of them had been popular wherever Storm was from. _I heard you on the wireless back in sixty-two..._  
      _...lying awake, intent and tuning in on you..._  
     Jean breathed a sigh of relief and felt the breeze on her cheeks. She felt Kurt arrive next to her and she grabbed his hand. He teleported her swiftly back to the airplane.

***********************************************************************************

     To his right, En Sabah Nur saw the empty alter where he had placed the telepath. The transfer had not been completed. Someone had taken his sacrifice.

***********************************************************************************

     By the time Hank had strapped into his seat and was through his pre-flight checks he'd heard the strange 'bampf' sound six times. Six trips should have covered everyone. Trusting that the kids could take care of Charles, Hank pulled back on the throttle and took off.  
     “I was not able to get Mystique and Peter.” Kurt had rushed to the front of the plane just after Hank had gotten her off the ground. Hank considered landing again, but decided against it. They were very close to En Sabah Nur and there were ominous clouds gathering nearby. If they landed, the weather might make taking off again difficult, or Angel and Psylocke could find them.  
     “Would you be able to get them from the plane?” Hank asked. Kurt thought about it.  
     “I have to see where I am going, so maybe if the door were opened.” He said, finally. “You would also need to fly me somewhere I can see them.”  
     “See if Jean can find them. I'll fly as close to where Magneto is as I can.” Hank did not like the idea of taking their plane close to Magneto, but he like the idea of leaving Raven and Peter even less. 

***********************************************************************************

     En Sabah Nur rose from the alter he had been lying on. Someone had disrupted his ritual. Someone had prevented him from attaining his destined power. That someone would have to be defeated. No, not merely defeated, crushed. He would have to find whoever had taken his sacrifice from him and show them why he was truly God and how they were at best tools of his rightful reign.  
     His acolytes would have to be punished as well, but not before the telepath was returned to him. They could be made to understand his displeasure immediately, but actual punishment could wait. The dead would not be able to help him reclaim his prize. En Sabah Nur stalked down the maze of corridors leading to the outside. He could see signs of a fight; scratches in the stone, steal feathers embedded in the walls. His Angel had clearly fought.  
     The first thing he noticed when stepping outside of his temple was the sun. It still shone directly onto the conduit, but there were clouds massing. Soon they would obscure the necessary light. That left a very narrow window in which he would have to reacquire the telepath and start the ritual again. Psylocke and Angel approached him. Each had minor visible wounds, but nothing so severe that would excuse their failures. Each also looked angry, which boded well for them correcting their recent mistakes.  
     “They brought a teleporter.” Psylocke snarled. En Sabah Nur nodded, slowly. A teleporter would explain how his sacrifice had been stolen. Teleportation was a powerful gift. He had made a point of taking that power many years ago.  
     “Get me close enough and I'll kill him.” Angel promised. En Sabah Nur was only half listening. Though the ritual was incomplete, there was still a thread of connection between himself and the telepath. It wasn't enough to tell him where the telepath was, but it meant it was likely the thieves were still nearby. He scanned the area visually and spotted an aircraft just rising into vision.  
     “There.” He indicated the plane. “The telepath must survive.”  
     His two acolytes glanced at each other and hesitated momentarily. It would be difficult to catch up to the aircraft, but if they wished his forgiveness, they would bring it down before he did. From the sky a bolt of lightning struck the plane directly. Psylocke and Angel jumped a little; they had forgotten about Storm. En Sabah Nur smiled at her. With the telepath gone, clear weather was no longer necessary.  
     “Wind.” Angel said suddenly. He was looking at Storm. “Strong winds are more of a problem for flying than lightning.”  
     “Will that wreck the plane?” She asked. If the plane crashed, they might lose the telepath.  
     “At some point, depending on the pilot.” Angel confirmed.  
     “We'll get up there, get him out first.” Psylocke offered. “If you can give Angel some extra lift.”  
     Storm nodded. Angel took off, grabbing Psylocke around her waist. He struggled for height at first, before Storm's warm air current lifted them into to the air.  
     “You will get them to the plane, and prevent the plane from flying away at the same time.” He did not make it a question. Storm did not answer verbally, only nodded. Excellent. En Sabah Nur watched. Once the telepath was his again, he would have to take care of these rebellious children himself, since his chosen had proven inadequate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billie Jean and What a Feeling were both popular songs in the US in 1983. The song Jean succeeds in getting stuck in Storm's head is Video Killed the Radio Star, which was released in 1979. I was not able to find a list of songs that were popular in Egypt in 1983 and have simply assumed four years is enough time for Storm to have heard the song.


	22. chapter 21

     Light flared around the plane, blinding Jean momentarily. The plane seemed to shake around her, but she wasn't sure if that was typical of a takeoff. She didn't remember the last one being this rough, but she had been actually strapped in and, in spite of the situation, in a better state of mind.  
     “What was that?” She asked Kurt, but he didn't have an answer for her. Jean stumbled to the front of the plane and repeated her question to Scott and Dr. McCoy. “What was that?”  
     “Lightning strike.” Dr. McCoy didn't look away from the instrument panel. His voice sounded calm, but a light scan of his feelings were not. “Nothing for you to worry about.”  
     “Planes are built to handle lightning.” Scott tried to reassure her. He was not calm as she would have liked, either.  
     “I thought planes weren't supposed to fly in bad weather.” This was the only plane Jean had ever been in, but she definitely thought she remembered hearing that somewhere. And the unease of their pilot seemed to back that up.  
     “They're not. But it's the high winds and poor visibility that create the problems.” Scott assured her. “Not the lightning.”  
     “Speaking of, you should go back and strap in.” Dr. McCoy instructed her. “It's looking like there will be turbulence.”  
     The front window of their plane showed pretty good visibility to her, but she didn't know anything about plane flight. Jean returned to her seat and fastened her seatbelt. Kurt had moved the Professor to a chair and strapped him in as well.   
     “It was lightning,” she informed him. At his alarmed expression, she added, “Apparently the plane is designed to be struck.”  
     A loud 'thunk' echoed in the passenger area. Jean glanced at Kurt, who was also looking at her nervously.   
     “Probably something just hit the plane?” She didn't mean to make it a question. Kurt was opening his mouth to speak when a beam of purple energy cut through the ceiling of their plane.  
     “Psylocke's on the plane.” Jean called towards the cockpit. She sent the message mentally as well, in case they had trouble hearing her words.   
     “What?” Scott turned in his seat. It wasn't really a question; he knew what she'd said. He just didn't want to believe it. He started to unfasten his seatbelt, but Dr. McCoy stopped him.  
     “Kids, you need to be strapped in. We can't really fly in this wind. I'm trying for a controlled descent, but” he trailed off. He meant that they were going to crash.  
     “Kurt, can you get us all out of here?” She looked at Kurt. He was eying the the path of the purple energy, watching the hole Psylocke was carving.  
     “Yes, if I see a safe place to land.” Kurt unstrapped himself and started working on the Professor.   
     “Wait until she's inside the plane.” Scott suggested. “That way she'll crash.”  
     Jean helped Kurt carry the Professor forward. She put a hand on his shoulder. Dr. McCoy and Scott each reached out and took hold of Kurt's tail. Kurt faced the window and looked out. Jean watched as first Angel and then Psylocke hopped down into the plane.   
      _Now._ Jean sent the command to Scott and Dr. McCoy as well as Kurt so they wouldn't be surprised. Then they were no longer falling.

***********************************************************************************

     En Sabah Nur watched the aircraft struggle against the winds shaking it. He watched as Psylocke and Angel clung to its exterior in spite of those violent winds. He saw them enter the plane and the plane's violent dive down into the earth. Above the debris, Angel circled once, twice, then flew back to them. Alone. He landed and dropped to his knee, bowing his head in shame.  
     “The teleporter got them out of the plane.” He offered his excuse for failure. A strong spirit was good, but what was the point if you could not use it to win?  
     “What happened to Psylocke?” Storm asked. She sounded concerned.   
     “She jumped. I didn't see where she landed.” None of which mattered.  
     “She is unimportant.” En Sabah Nur had already dismissed Psylocke. Angel and Storm would need to as well. “She was weak. Weakness has no place in the world I am building.”  
     Angel nodded, immediately accepting. Storm frowned, but nodded slowly. She was still too compassionate. En Sabah Nur felt for the weak thread tying him to the telepath. It was still there. He walked in the direction it pulled him. Angel and Storm began to follow him, but he raised one hand, gesturing to them to stop.   
     “Storm, begin clearing the weather again.” He would re-acquire his telepath soon, and he would need the sun. “Angel, scout from above.” Without argument, Angel took to the sky, circling widely around him. Storm stepped back into the shadow of his temple began to calm push away the clouds.   
     He attributed the shifting winds around him to Storm, until an unseen force struck him in the abdomen. And then another such force struck his knee, hard enough to knock him down. As he fell forward, he realized the unseen force was a mutant. A very fast one. He was struck again in the chin. As he turned his neck to reduce the impact of the punch, he adjusted his vision to look for this new mutant. En Sabah Nur tracked the speedy young man. With careful timing, he raised the ground around the boy's leg, catching him.   
     En Sabah Nur approached the boy. Such speed would make for a very powerful mutant. And if Psylocke were dead, he was in need of another powerful mutant. But he had heard the sound of bone breaking when the earth captured the boy's leg, and the boy was already an enemy. It was too bad; without even enhancing the boy's power he was one of the strongest mutants En Sabah Nur had ever encountered. He caught the boy's fist in his hand. There was room for improvement; he could make the boy more powerful. He could set the leg. The boy wouldn't be able to fight with him immediately, but his power would heal him soon. But the boy showed no interest in power or in taking his rightful place. And his interest in vengeance was limited. Pity. He twisted the boy's arm until the bone snapped.  
     “Let me kill him.” Psylocke approached from behind. As she was still alive, he would give her a chance to redeem her past failures. He took a step back to allow her room to strike. She drew her physical sword. She did not, as was typical of her, infuse the blade with her own power. En Sabah Nur regarded her with suspicion. And instead of swiftly beheading the boy, she turned and struck at him. But En Sabah Nur was ready and caught the blade. He tossed it to the side and took Psylocke by the throat. It was not Psylocke's power he felt. As he choked her, she transformed from Psylocke into her true self; a blue woman he'd seen somewhere before. Another powerful mutant, who must unfortunately die for her unwillingness to submit to his new world.  
     En Sabah Nur made to tighten his grip and crush her throat, but his hand was frozen.

***********************************************************************************

     Hank felt the ground slam into his feet and bent his knees, letting his legs bear the brunt of the impact. The kids, he saw, had not landed quite as well. Kurt had struck his head against something, he had a scrape visible on his temple and was not conscious. Scott was in better shape; at least he was awake. He had also caught Jean's fall, which had resulted in his glasses being on the ground in front of him. Luckily, they were still intact. Hank picked them up and handed them back to Scott. Scott fumbled a bit trying to put them on. Jean helped him, and the two of them sat close.   
     “Hank,” Charles was conscious now. It surprised Hank, as he was the only person who couldn't try to protect himself from the impact. Possibly he'd been protected by Kurt.  
     “Charles,” Hank started to explain their situation but Charles interrupted him.  
     “I know what's happened. I'm still connected to his mind.” Charles winced. He had been through quite a bit, physically and psychically, in the last twenty-four hours. “I think I can fight him there.”  
     It didn't sound like a good idea, but Hank didn't exactly have a better one. They were injured and without an escape plan. While they had been able to fight some of En Sabah Nur's allies, he wasn't sure they stood much of a chance against En Sabah Nur himself. If Charles thought he could defeat the man in his head, it might be their only hope. 

***********************************************************************************

     En Sabah Nur was standing in the entryway of a large house, in front of a large, multistory staircase. At the top of the stairs stood the telepath.   
     “You're quite powerful.” The telepath looked down at him, and slowly began descending the stairs. En Sabah Nur watched. “I've never seen anyone with so many different powers before.”  
     “I take them from those too weak to use them properly.” He wasn't sure why he answered honestly, or even why he answered at all. The telepath nodded, as though this was expected.  
     “Making yourself stronger so you can rule.” He stopped on the first floor landing, still looking down on En Sabah Nur.  
     “The strong must rule the weak. It is nature.” En Sabah Nur agreed.  
     “Are mutants are the strong and humans the weak?” The telepath's question was not unreasonable, but something about his tone was subtly mocking.   
     “All humans are weak,” he agreed. “They have some value as a breeding population, perhaps. Though in this modern world, there may be enough mutants to sustain the species.”  
     He found himself recalling Magneto's wife. Her impudence in addressing him. The ease with which he had ordered her death. It was odd that he would recall it in such detail. It had been nothing to him.  
     “Nothing at all?” The telepath murmured. The question was not, he realized, addressed to him, but to someone else. En Sabah Nur turned looking for another presence in the room, but saw no one.  
     He saw the blue warrior who fought for humans slip from his grasp. He saw Storm, an expression of horror on her face. He saw Angel hanging frozen in midair. He saw Magneto, pure rage directed not where it belonged but at him.  
     He saw only a dark, empty room.  
     Something, En Sabah Nur realized, was not right. The telepath was talking again. Blathering on about inherent value of life and strength in unity. The excuses of the weak, or worse, those who made themselves weak. En Sabah Nur was not listening. He was observing. The room was not quite a room. Instead of walls, it faded away into darkness at the edges. The stair case did not actually lead anywhere. This was not a real room.  
     Once he knew the room didn't exist, everything else feel into place. He had been using his fraying connection with the telepath to locate him. The telepath had likewise used it to enter his mind. As distractions went, the plan had merits. But it would not be enough. En Sabah Nur was not a psychic himself, but he knew his own mind far better than this telepath.  
     “Not all mutants are strong,” he interrupted the telepath. “Strength requires more than simple power. It requires the will to use it. The skill to use it properly. You, for example are strong, but far from as strong as your power would allow for.”  
     “Oh?” The telepath seemed amused. He did not yet know that his control of the illusion had slipped.  
     “Indeed. You can control other's actions, bend them to your will without their realizing it. You can alter memories. You could rule this world yourself.” He could almost pinpoint the telepath's location. “Instead you avoid paperwork and teach children that they are of no more worth than a mere human.”  
     With an effort of will, En Sabah Nur moved towards the telepath's hiding place. He gestured for Angel and Storm to accompany him. Storm did not move, an act of betrayal she would soon pay for. Angel swooped towards him but was arrested in mid flight. The gun barrel of one of the disassembled tanks barred his path. Magneto.  
     “You betray me?” He cried. Of all of his children, Magneto had been the one with the most reason to remain loyal. Only as a servant of En Sabah Nur could his revenge be fully realized.  
     “I betrayed them.” Magneto's voice was quiet. His anger was not. Angel's wings twisted and tore, taking the boy apart with them. Feathers of metal splattered with blood rained down. En Sabah Nur easily deflected the blades. Now he would have to destroy Magneto as well. It was of little matter; none of his servants could come close to him in strength.  
     He would crush them all. Beginning with the telepath.  
     Inside his head En Sabah Nur let the image of himself grow. The telepath stood on the landing and gaped up at him. His form stretched the boundaries of the imaginary room, breaking them. Only the stairs remained, attached to nothing, floating in space.  
     “The connection between us works both ways.” He explained to the telepath. “Thank you for letting me in.”  
     The telepath ran down the stairs and towards what had once been a door but was now only shadow. There would be no escape there. The telepath had tried to claim En Sabah Nur's mind and now would find himself claimed.   
     “Jean,” The telepath plead for help. “Jean, I need you.”

***********************************************************************************

     “Jean,” the Professor whispered. “Jean I need you.”  
     She didn't know if she could do anything to help. She clutched Scott's hand and reached out to the Professor with her mind.  
     Jean had never walked in another person's mindscape deliberately before. She'd occasionally blundered into Jubes' dreams, but they were much more grounded in reality than this. This place was a distorted funhouse version of the mansion. Walls were at angles, stairs attached to nothing, ceiling either non-existent or far outside of her vision.  
     This place was haunted by the giant of her nightmare. En Sabah Nur was the giant of her nightmare. He was crushing the Professor under one huge thumb. Jean stepped back, frightened. In her sleep she had been helpless until the Professor woke her. Now he was helpless as well.  
     “Jean.” The Professor gasped her name. The giant looked away from him and to her. His gaze bore into her, assessing.  
     “She cannot help you.” He said, turning back to the Professor. He was right. There was nothing Jean could do.

***********************************************************************************

     Jean's hand tightened on Scott's. He looked at her. He wasn't sure if it was his glasses or something about the light, but it seemed like her eyes were flickering red, like they were on fire.

***********************************************************************************

     The telepath had summoned aide, but his aide came in the form of a young girl. Age and size could be proxies for power in a purely mental state, but perhaps the girl was not aware that she could manipulate her own image. Or perhaps she was trying to project an image of harmlessness. En Sabah Nur felt for her power.  
     She was strong. Perhaps even a better candidate for a transfer of consciousness than the other telepath. He preferred the male form, but exceptions could be made for great strength. At the moment, however, it was clear she was of no threat to him. He refocused his attention on his telepath.  
     The air around him grew warm, quickly becoming hot. A new power pressed in on him. En Sabah Nur searched for its source. Where there had once been a young girl, there was fire. Fire in the shape of a large bird, beating flickering wings. This was power, raw and all consuming. This was a power unlike any he had seen before. This was a power En Sabah Nur could not hope to beat. The fire was hungry. It did not waste time playing with its food.

***********************************************************************************

     In the physical world the body of En Sabah Nur crumbled into warm ashes. The wind scattered them until they were indistinguishable from the dirt and rocks scattered throughout the area.


	23. Chapter 22

     After everything, it felt very anticlimactic.  
     En Sabah Nur was gone. Hank wasn't sure how, didn't think anyone was sure how except Charles and maybe Jean. But Charles had passed out again in the immediate aftermath, likely exhausted, and Jean wasn't talking at all. If either remained in that condition once they got home it could be a serious problem, but they'd cross that bridge if and when they came to it. Of much more pressing concern was how they were going to get home. And if Erik was going to let them leave. He was still hovering above everyone, looking down on where En Sabah Nur had last stood.  
     Fuck it, Mystique could handle Erik. Hank was done with him.  
     “Scott,” he got the boy's attention, “I'm going to get the first aid kits from the plane. Are you okay alone here for a few minutes?”  
     “Yeah.” Scott didn't sound entirely sure, but at the moment, Hank didn't have much choice. He needed to see if the plane was fixable with what they had on hand or if he'd have to find some way to contact Moira and see if the CIA could provide them a ride. None of the kids seemed to be seriously injured physically and Scott was capable of telling Kurt what happened once he woke up.   
     The Blackbird wasn't in a flyable condition, but all of the major parts were intact. The electrical systems were still functional, and Hank didn't smell gas, so it might be fixable. With Erik's help. Or maybe it could stay here as scrap. Not much chance the Soviet army could salvage and reverse engineer it, right?  
     Mystique would ask for Erik's help. Hank wouldn't even have to speak to him.  
     She was already talking to Erik, who had finally returned to the ground. Possibly she would bring up plane repair without Hank even going over there.  
     “Thank fuck you've brought morphine.” Peter was sitting on the ground, leg stretched out in front of him and arm cradled to his chest. Both were braced with folded bits of metal. “Mystique set the bones and Magneto set up the splints, but I'm still in a lot of pain and I don't even have music to distract myself because someone broke my Walkman.”  
     Peter raised his voice and directed the end of his sentence towards Mystique and Erik. Neither of them reacted. Though why either of them would want to break Peter's cassette player was beyond Hank.  
     “When we get back to the school, I might be able to fix your Walkman. Depending on what's wrong with it.” Hank offered while preparing the injection. Peter sighed some of the tension in his expression eased, though whether it was due to the offer or the imminent pain relief Hank couldn't guess.   
     “Thanks. I'd rather not have to get another one. Wouldn't be the same.” Peter drummed his fingers on his cassette player.   
     “Is the plane fixable?” Mystique asked Hank. He nodded.  
     “From what I can tell. Most of the damage seems to be to the body.” Hank hoped Mystique would say she'd already convinced Erik to fix it.  
     “Erik offered to fix it, but you'll have to tell him what needs to be fixed and what he should leave alone.”   
     “Of course.” It's not like Erik would be able to tell which bends were from the crash and which were there to provide lift. And Mystique was not an engineer either. He stood up and started walking back towards the plane, assuming Erik would follow. “Check on the other kids and Charles for me, then?”  
     “No problem.” Mystique agreed.  
     “If you let him destroy the rest of my tapes I will spend the entire flight back talking to you.” Peter threatened.   
     “Or I could just keep you unconscious the whole time.” Hank would not feel at all guilty about it.  
     “Not enough morphine on the plane.” Peter countered. That did not seem right. Unless Peter's speed went along with a very fast metabolism. “I packed all the first aid stuff myself. Trust me. Save my tapes.”  
     “What if they broke in the crash?” Mystique asked. She sounded amused.   
     “He was the pilot, he's responsible for not crashing the plane.” Peter pointed out. He was smiling, too. Clearly the morphine was working.  
     “I'll get your tapes out of the plane before Magneto does anything.” Hank promised. 

***********************************************************************************

     Morphine was great for pain; Peter could still tell that his leg was broken, and he thought that something in his arm might be actually torn, but it didn't exactly hurt anymore. Morphine was terrible for thinking, though. It slowed him down, which wasn't terrible, since getting up and moving wasn't an option with the broken leg, but it also made concentrating difficult. Mystique had been talking to him for several seconds and he'd only been able to catch the last few words.  
     “-you tell him.” She wasn't asking a question.   
     “Tell who what?” Peter asked. He knew it was a dumb question before he'd finished asking it. Even without knowing everything Mystique had been saying, she was obviously talking about Magneto.  
     “Tell Erik you're his son.” She frowned at him, annoyed he wasn't paying attention, maybe. That did tend to piss people off. And it was time he stopped putting it off and made an actual decision about telling Magneto.  
     On the one hand, he did want to get to know his father better. And the only way he'd get to do that was by spending more time with him. Something that would probably only happen if he told him. And if Magneto believed him. Though, he didn't think Magneto believing him was a serious problem. He'd gotten the impression that Magneto would like the idea of having another kid, a son.  
     Peter didn't know if that meant Magneto would like _him_ for a son, but that was out of his hands. He'd lived this long without fatherly approval, he could manage without it. He'd prefer not getting rejected outright, but if Magneto were the kind of man who could do that he wasn't worth getting upset about. The real problems would come up if Magneto embraced the role of father.  
     The biggest issue from Peter's point of view was what Magneto would want to do about Peter's mom. His mom had hidden Peter from Magneto, and Peter could see how that might make him angry, though probably not mass murder angry. But killing Peter's mom angry? That seemed much more likely. And while Peter would put himself between flying scrap metal and anyone in his family he wasn't always going to be around to do that.  
     And that was another problem. Peter didn't think he was going to die anytime soon – he didn't have any symptoms yet and Stevie had been sick a little over a year after he'd first seen the spots – but thirty was probably more of a hope than a likelihood. If Magneto stuck around he'd probably end up watching Peter die. Of an illness people knew next to nothing about because it wasn't killing normal people. Yeah, that didn't seem like something that would make Magneto angry.   
     Or maybe not. It wasn't murder, and it didn't have anything to do with being a mutant. Peter didn't know enough about Magneto's priorities to do more than guess.  
     “I think I might wait a bit.” A guess wasn't good enough.  
     “Wait?” Mystique did not look pleased with his answer. “You know, it would probably be good for Erik, to know he still has family.”  
     “Maybe.” But like Peter's already told her, it wasn't about Magneto.

***********************************************************************************

     Storm wasn't sure what to do now that En Sabah Nur was gone. Honestly, she hadn't been sure what to do from the moment he'd dismissed Psylocke's likely death. She was sure now that En Sabah Nur was not the benevolent savior he had claimed. And that she should never have helped him. It was odd to consider herself the villain. She had broken laws before, but never had she been a part of something she regretted so much.   
     She walked, because standing still never changed anything. It was easier to think while moving. She was not sure how she could get back to Egypt, or if she even wanted to. Though he had proven evil in his intentions, En Sabah Nur had whet her appetite for effecting greater change than providing cover for young thieves. She walked past some large rocks and nearly stepped directly into her former enemies.   
     “I'm sorry,” she began. In English, because she did not think they would speak Arabic. She stopped then, because there was nothing else she could say. Yet, the apology was wholly inadequate to what she had done. The only proper apology would have to come from her actions.  
     “You're sorry?” The young man with red glasses asked her, his tone thick with sarcasm. Understandable. The other young man, the blue one with the tail, watched her with suspicion. The young woman didn't seem to see her at all, though she was awake, unlike En Sabah Nur's former prisoner.  
     “Yes.” Storm directed a cool breeze across her former enemies' skin. It would not provide shelter from the sun, but it would feel nice.  
     “Stop it.” The one in the glasses ordered. She stopped the breeze. “You think you can apologize and that's it? Like you didn't try to kill us.”  
     She didn't think that, but there really wasn't a way to make things right, or even better without apologizing first.  
     “Enough, Scott.” The young woman spoke. The man with the glasses, Scott apparently, immediately turned to her. “She's alright.”  
     “Jean,” Even behind the glasses, he seemed relieved to Storm. “Are you okay?”  
     “I'm fine.” Jean rubbed her temple. “Just a bit of a headache.”  
     “What happened?” The blue man asked. “Scott said you helped the Professor win his battle.”  
     “It wasn't me.” Jean denied, but she didn't sound entirely sure. She looked up at Storm and asked, “Will you come with us? When we go home?”  
     “She tried to kill us.” Scott pointed out. Storm did not deny it. She'd tried to take their plane down knowing full well they would likely die in the crash.   
     “She regrets it. Sincerely.” The young woman replied. Also true, though it was unusual that the woman could be so sure. Scott still looked skeptical, but the other young man, the teleporter, nodded. He offered his hand.  
     “I am Kurt.” He smiled at her a little, encouraging. “I hope you will come back with us.”  
     “Ororo.” She smiled back at him. Storm was not sure she would actually be able to atone for what she had done, but if they would let her, she would try.

***********************************************************************************

     “Will you be staying here at the school?” Kurt's question caught Mystique by surprise. When she had come back to campus she had not intended to stay very long. Now that the world had been saved, again, she wasn't sure if she had a good reason to stay.  
     “I'm not sure.” She answered honestly. Mystique didn't have a compelling reason to leave, either.   
     “I would like it if you stayed, but I understand if you cannot.” Kurt put a hand on her shoulder. Coloring aside, he looked very much like his father. If she did leave, it wouldn't be because of him.  
     “Whatever happens, Kurt, you did a good job.” She smiled at him. “All of you did.”  
     “It needed to be done.” Kurt ducked his head a little, uncomfortable with receiving praise. He turn and began to walk down the hall towards the stairs.  
     “Kurt?” He stopped and turned back. “Why are you walking when you can teleport?”  
     “Why are you wearing a disguise?” She had put her Raven form back together when they had returned to Charles' house, like she always did. It did make Charles more comfortable, but wasn't really her.  
     “You make a good point.” Mystique shifted back into her natural blue. If she was going to stay here for any length of time, Charles would have to adjust. Kurt grinned back at her, then teleported off to find his friends. Mystique went into Charles' office to think while she waited for her brother.  
     Working with a team, like when she was a kid, hadn't been as bad as she'd feared. Though some of that might have been because unlike last time, they hadn't lost anyone. There was no new conflict that needed to be settled as soon as the threat had passed. The world had been saved, her brother was alive. Kurt was alive and, if she was being honest with herself, he was at least part of the reason she was considering staying. Erik hadn't wanted to come back with them, but that had always been a bit of a long-shot. But overall, things had turned out okay.  
     “Raven,” Charles wheeled himself into the room. “I wasn't sure you'd still be here.”  
     “Neither was I.” It said quite a bit about their relationship that that was true. “I've been thinking of staying for a bit, though.”  
     “That's wonderful.” Charles started to smile and then winced. The left side of his face looked a little red.   
     “What happened?” Mystique gestured at the side of her face.  
     “Ah, well, I decided Moira deserved to have her memories back.” Charles rubbed his face a gingerly. If being slapped was all he'd gotten for that, Mystique thought that her brother had gotten off lightly.   
     “Not worried about the danger anymore?” She asked. He frowned at her.  
     “No, I still am. Undoubtedly her superiors will question her about us. If she decides she wants to protect us, it will be easier for her if she knows everything.” Charles explained. “Hank is taking her back to Langley now. He'll be picking up Peter's things, too.”  
     “Peter's staying?” With Erik vanished again into the ether, Mystique hadn't been sure if Peter would stay. He'd been looking for his father not for a community of mutants.   
     “I think so. He said he'd decide on the ride down if Hank was leaving him or driving him back.” Or maybe Hank would decide Peter needed to go back to his mother's house. Mystique was very glad not to be in that car. “If you're staying, there is something I need to ask you.”  
     “What?” If Charles was going to ask her to teach a class that might be a problem. She didn't have any of the relative experience.  
     “I think you were right, about how dangerous the world still is,” Mystique bit down on her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. Charles had just said she was right. “And I think that having some sort of preparation for future incidents would be helpful. Not that I think we would be able to prevent another En Sabah Nur situation entirely, but a team-”  
     “You want to bring back the X-Men?” Mystique interrupted him. The old team hadn't lasted very long, but it had made a huge difference. She hadn't thought Charles would want to risk his students in that way again.  
     “Not exactly. I wouldn't expect there to be another potentially world ending crisis for at least another decade.” Charles quipped. “But I also wouldn't expect teenagers who had just fought in a potentially world ending conflict to go back to being ordinary students.”  
     “This is about keeping them busy?” Charles did have a point. After Cuba, she'd never considered going back to pretending to be normal and working a normal job. Her brief try at settling down with Azazel had turned out okay only because he'd understood her need to do something useful. She could very easily see Kurt having a similar problem. Jean, Scott and Ororo, too.   
     “No, though that would be a bonus.” Charles maneuvered his chair to give him an easier view of the grounds outside the window. “They've already done so much, but I expect they'll want to do more. Even if we tell them to wait until they're older.”  
     “They'll be more effective if they have guidance.” Mystique thought she could see where Charles was going with this.  
     “Yes. If you stay, and guide them, they could do so much more.”   
     “I'm not working with the CIA again.” If she was going to do this, there would be ground rules. Mystique would work with the kids to help them, and to help other mutants. She was not getting caught up in a human political struggle again.  
     “Missions would be at your discretion. It would be your team, Raven.” She felt Charles reach out to her mind. Not reading it, not pushing it, just touching it.  
     “I really prefer being called Mystique.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed my slightly altered take on X-Men: Apocalypse. This is the end of the story, though I am posting a brief "after credits" scene as it's own chapter.
> 
> Before everyone makes the same comment, there is one point I do want to address. Yes, I think Peter should have told Magneto about the whole father-son thing. I even wrote a scene where he does in the first draft. But, it is my hope that the next X-Men movie will be good, and that this work can be my personal replacement for Apocalypse in the film canon. So I decided to leave all the characters in the same place they were at the end of actual movie.


	24. After Credits Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an 'after credits' scene. If you haven't read the previous chapter, that's where the story ends.

     “Jeannie, you can't just spend the rest of you life hiding in your own head.” Jubilation had found Jean again, and this time she'd brought Scott with her. It was either time to talk to her best friend or to find new hiding places on campus. “I know you're a psychic, but you have to talk to us sometime.”  
      _Do I really?_ She sent the thought to both of them.  
     “Yes, you do.” Scott always responded out loud when she spoke in his head. She wasn't sure if he thought it was more polite or if he had trouble distinguishing how she was communicating with him.  
     “C'mon, Jeannie-babe, you're making me worry.” Jubes sat down next to Jean and lay her head on Jean's shoulder. “You vanished for a bit in Afghanistan and then you come back and start avoiding me physically as well as psychically.”  
      “I'm sorry, Jubes,” Jean didn't want to make Jubes worry. That was part of why she'd been avoiding her. “It's just hard.”  
     “It is.” Scott agreed, staring down at her through his red glasses. “I remember, I was there.”  
     Jean shook her head. It wasn't that. Not that the experience of fighting for survival and trying to save the world wasn't hard. It had been. But the part that was hardest for Jean was the part she couldn't remember.  
     “Did the Professor tell you how he finally beat En Sabah Nur?” she asked them. Scott shook his head in the negative.  
     “He was kind of vague about that.” Jubes chewed on her lip, reflecting. “Did he tell you?”  
     “He was vague when I asked him, too.” Jean looked at each of them. “I was there, but I don't remember any of it.”  
     “What do you mean?” Scott asked.  
     “I remember the Professor asking me for help. I remember joining him in En Sabah Nur's head. It was scary,” she admitted. “It was like my nightmare. And then I was with you and Kurt and Ororo. I don't remember anything else.”  
     Ororo had come back with them and started studying at the school. She was nice. If Jean hadn't been avoiding everyone they probably would already be friends.   
     “You disappeared.” Jubes said. “From my head, I mean.”  
     “I wasn't in your head the whole time.” Jean objected.  
     “No, but like, it's the difference between being on hold and being disconnected. I couldn't hear you all the time but I sort of could tell you were there.” Jubes explained. “Then you vanished for a bit. I thought you were dead.”  
     “Oh, Jubes,” Jean turned and embraced her friend. She hadn't realized she'd been sending so consistently to Jubilation during the fight. It must have terrified her. “I didn't mean to -”  
     “Obviously,” Jubes interrupted, dismissing the apology with a wave of her hand. “I know you made it now, so I'm not going to try emotional blackmail unless you make it necessary by continuing to hide from all of your friends.”  
     “Right.” There was some blackmail there, but Jean was willing to accept it. She turned to Scott, “How about you?”  
     “If you're alright,” Scott agreed. “You haven't blacked out anything else, right?”  
     “Not as far as I can tell.” Jean only knew she lost her memory because people had asked her what she had done. Without context, she would probably never have noticed.  
     “And the Professor won't tell you anything?” That fact seemed to trouble Scott.   
     “He told me I helped him, but not specifics, no.” She'd talked to the Professor on the flight home. He'd gone very quiet when she'd admitted to having no memory of what she'd done. She'd gotten the impression that he was disturbed, but she didn't dare scan his mind to be sure. The Professor always knew if she tried to read his mind.   
     “He must have his reasons.” Jubes sounded a little skeptical.   
     “I'm sure he does.” Jean agreed. She trusted the Professor. If he didn't want to share details with her, it must be because he thought the details would be more disturbing than their absence.  
     “Jean, Scott!” Kurt teleported into view, and then directly into their group. “Jubilation! The Professor is looking for you.”  
     “What for?” Scott asked.  
     “I am not sure. He has Ororo and Peter in his office already. He sent me to get you three.” Kurt didn't mention Mystique or Dr. McCoy, but Jean bet they were around as well. A meeting of the people who'd fought in Afghanistan. And Jubes, who'd helped.  
     The four of them headed back to the Professor's office.


End file.
